Happily Ever After the Fact
by TycheSong
Summary: Hermione receives a letter from the Ministry informing her of a bit of new legislation, and attempts to deal with it in a unique way. My nod to the genre of Marriage Law Challenge fics (among others), originally written for Dragoon811 for the SSHG GiftFest 2014.
1. I: Blah, Blah 'A Brighter Britain,' Blah

**Summary:** Hermione receives a letter from the Ministry informing her of a bit of new legislation, and attempts to deal with it in a unique way. My nod to the genre of Marriage Law Cliche fics, originally written for Dragoon 811 for the SSHG GiftFest 2014.

**Disclaimer:** All recognizable characters and fictional places do not belong to me; I am merely borrowing them for playtime before (respectfully) putting them back. Thank you, JKR, for allowing such things to happen.

**Pairings/Main Characters** Hermione Granger and Severus Snape. Minor appearances by Percy Weasley, Draco Malfoy, George Weasley, Harry Potter and OFCs: Minister Behrends and Serena Savage.

**Warnings:** This story is rated NC-17/MA, and it is _not_ suitable for children under age 18. It is Alternate Universe, and includes strong language, lemons (graphic sex), violence, mention of violence and mention of character death.

**Thank You:** To the wonderful ladies who worked with me on this fic: Savva, Shinigamioni, and Stgulik. You three are brilliant, and it was a blessing to have you on my team. I have tried (and failed) to come up with a suitable Super Hero Team beginning with S that isn't already trademarked. Further thanks to AdelaideArcher, for Brit Picking. :-)

**Dedication:** This fic was written for my very good friend, Dragoon811, who has always encouraged me to write, and was kind enough not to be annoyed that I completely ignored her prompts. You're a doll!

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**HAPPILY EVER AFTER THE FACT**  
**By: TycheSong**

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**I: Blah, Blah 'A Brighter Britain,' Blah.**

_November 2009_

"_A marriage law?_ Can they do that? Is this...is this _legal?_" Hermione Granger's voice rose with each syllable until she was nearly shrieking, and whirled to face the portrait hanging by her desk, the Ministry letter still in hand.

The man in the portrait shrugged slightly. "There is...precedent. What is the reasoning behind it?"

"Lack of population. The majority of the casualties at the Battle of Hogwarts were teens and children." Hermione gave him a sad look. "The only adults who fought on Harry's side were teachers, the Order, and what few Aurors found out about it and managed to join. Even with the gargoyles and castle Guardians, we would have been slaughtered. Really, the only thing that saved us was that the Dark Lord was reluctant to 'spill magical blood' as he put it, and called a halt and hour's respite for us to heal whilst Harry sneaked off to martyr himself.

"Because so many young people were lost, not as many children were born in the years following. Only nine first years were admitted to Hogwarts this last September. There are apparently even fewer next year. The press is calling it 'the Lost Generation,' and now the Ministry thinks it's their right to force us to have babies!" Hermione glared down at the crumpled letter in her hands. "How can they do this? How can there possibly be precedent for something like this, Severus?"

Severus Snape, deceased war hero, former Headmaster of Hogwarts, and longtime consultant to Roth, Savage &amp; Malfoy Research, gave her a look that could only be described as sympathetic. "The last time the government enforced a marriage act of some kind was in the late fourteenth century."

Hermione thought for a moment. "After the Black Death."

He inclined his head in agreement.

"They can't possibly be comparing millions of lives to this!"

"The population of the British Wizarding community was affected on a much smaller scale by the Black Death. Not truly that far below what you are describing. Nine magical children in a year _is_ devastating, Hermione—Hogwarts usually admits between thirty-five and sixty students each year. Your year was one of the smaller ones to begin with, and with so many dead...it doesn't really surprise me that the Ministry has panicked and reinstated the law."

Hermione groaned and sank into her chair. "What am I going to do? I can't get _married_ and start having babies. I have a career, and my parents, and I don't...I don't even have a boyfriend right now. It should be my choice. _Mine._ I fought in that goddamned war in order to be free in this world."

The painted head tilted, and the former Headmaster's hair fell forward into his face. "You fought that war to be a _part_ of this world, and now you have to obey its laws." He sighed, and then lifted his head again. "Surely there are exceptions listed?"

Hermione nodded mechanically. "I can file for exemption if I am over the age of eighty-five, if I am a widow who has already borne at least two children, if I have _prior existing_ documentation that I am sterile or that pregnancy is detrimental to my health. I can file for up to two years' deferment if I am a full-time student under the age of twenty-five or if I have been widowed in the last year."

"Absolutely none of which applies to you."

"No, none. I have to find a husband before the end of the year, or be fined. After the third such monthly fine I face criminal charges and time in Azkaban. Blah, blah, 'thank you for supporting a brighter future for Britain,' blah."

"You could always get married, kill him and file for a two year deferment," he offered dryly. "Perhaps the law will be repealed by then."

Hermione stuck her tongue out at the portrait. When she had been hired by Roth, Savage &amp; Malfoy Research seven years ago, she had been surprised to find a portrait of a younger Severus Snape hanging in her lab space. Serena Savage, the daughter of _the_ Mr. Savage on the front door of the building, had informed her airily that Snape had been an important and valued member of their research team for years, focusing on potions, of course. The company had been sorely grieved when he had not survived the war. His portrait hung in here because this had been _his_ lab. She was told she could request for it to be transferred if it proved to be a distraction.

Hermione had hastily assured her new boss that she was certain she would be able to work in a professional manner regardless of any portrait that might hang in her lab. The portrait in question had been commissioned when Severus had first joined RS&amp;M just a few years after he had started teaching at Hogwarts. Once he had died and the portrait had awoken, it had been hung in his former lab—now hers.

It had been difficult at first for Hermione to handle him. Four years after the war had ended, she had only just begun to feel stable in her healing process, and had very firmly painted him in her mind as a tortured and unappreciated hero who had died a brilliant and romantic death for everyone. In less than two minutes, the portrait of a twenty-one-year-old Severus Snape, imbued with the essence of the thirty-eight-year-old version, had eviscerated her emotions and reduced her to tears. His remarks had been cutting, derisive and sarcastic, and Hermione had taken them as deserved for not trusting him quite enough as a child.

He was not, and never had been an easy person to get along with, no matter how brilliant and self-sacrificing his actions had turned out to be. Furthermore, he did not want her apologies, or her thanks, or her stuttered admiration. Finally he had snarled at her, "You're an adult, for fuck's sake! Stop snivelling, and stop putting me on pretty pedestal. You thought I was a Death Eater because I wanted you to. If I could make the Dark Lord think I was loyal, why on earth would a seventeen-year-old girl who barely knew me outside of class think any differently?

"Now. I didn't like you, you didn't like me, neither of us was especially nice to the other, and we both have made mistakes. That is all irrelevant. Since you've been hired here, I would presume you have work to do. Interesting work, I would even imagine. So stop fussing and tell me about _that._ I refuse to be stuck in a research lab with an empty-headed child when I was promised an intelligent witch on the cutting edge of spells research."

His words had snapped her back to herself. Still feeling a little stunned, Hermione had begun to speak of the research she had started that had secured her employment. He had listened, nodded, tapped at his painted lips with a long finger, and commented now and again.

He was still sarcastic, and often prickly, but after about a month, Hermione had realised that he was also her friend, and she would have been upset to lose him from her lab. He entertained her endlessly with sardonic commentary about her co-workers, as well as the _Daily Prophet_ articles she read him during breaks. He debated theories with her, and seemed to respect her intelligence and her work, and after an initial shouting match, rarely tried to impose his opinion on what she was doing.

After their first year together, she had commissioned an artist to paint another portrait of him, based off the one that hung in her laboratory. She missed him horribly the month and a half that he was missing from her lab, but it was worth it the day she got him back, and then went home and was able to hang him neatly on the wall of her library.

Severus' advice had become invaluable to her. She remembered how much she had counted on his counsel when it came to her parents. After the war, Hermione had travelled to Australia to lift the Obliviate that had caused them to forget her existence. When she had done so, something had gone horribly wrong. Their original memories had returned, but their false memories hadn't gone away. The effect had been devastating to their psyches.

She had moved them back to Britain to be cared for by the best Wizarding physicians. They lived in the Janus Thickey Ward for years whilst Healers debated their condition. Severus had, surprisingly, not assigned blame, but had supported her mentally through the terrible time. He had also advised her a great deal on both memory charms and healing potions, and helped her select a Healer who seemed to know what he was doing.

A vigorous regimen of healing charms and potions enabled her parents to move into a small cottage just outside of London. Hermione paid handsomely for a medi-wizard to live in; it was the least she could do after ruining their lives twice.

Hermione took dinner with them every week—sometimes they knew who she was, and sometimes not. Either way, she knew that the small amount of comfort and independence the once fiercely intelligent couple had wouldn't have been possible without Severus' guidance.

For the most part, she got on very well as she was. She _liked_ her life filled with intriguing and frustrating research and accompanied by an equally intriguing and frustrating portrait of a man. If it was not particularly well-adjusted of her that she spent very little time with her _live_ friends, that was her business and no one else's. Damn it, she didn't _want_ to be married to some man she hardly knew, she didn't want the responsibility of a baby with a man she hardly knew.

Hermione smoothed the crumpled letter and re-read it as if it might change under her scrutiny. Pursing her lips, she recalled how her donation to the hospital had suddenly found a medi-wizard willing to make daily at-home visits to her parents when none had existed before hand. "Do you suppose another _generous donation_ might find me exempt?" she wondered aloud.

"Is _Hermione Granger_ actually discussing the possibility of bribing the Ministry rather than follow the laws? Like a Malfoy?" The response was dripping with false shock and horror.

"You started it. And you should watch it. Mr. Malfoy is one of my employers now, this is his building, and he pays me well. As did the Ministry after the war. I can certainly afford it, and if there were ever a law worth a bribe to get around, it's this one."

"Indeed. I am, for the first time since my demise, eminently grateful that I am dead and not subject to the law myself. Going through the horror of finding a female I could actually live with is a torture less preferable than _Crucio._"

Hermione gave him a wounded look. "What am I, then, chopped potion components? You spend most of your time with me already."

The portrait gave her an astonished look. "Surely you don't mean _you_ would be interested in _me._"

Hermione gave a mirthless laugh. "I enjoy your company, I even brought you home to 'live' with me. If the law applied to you I'd marry you in a heartbeat, before anyone else could snatch you up and make us both miserable. I imagine we'd swim along just fine, with a few minor adjustments."

"_Minor adjustments?_" he said, clearly affronted. "I'll have you know, Hermione, that I am certainly not a _minor_ adjustment. You also seem to have forgotten that marriage requires...well..."

To Hermione's surprise, red tinged the portrait's cheeks. She grinned at him, and supplied helpfully, "Sex?" To her delight, his blush deepened. "Honestly, Severus, sex is usually pretty fun even when you aren't with the love of your existence. I'm fairly sure we could manage without deciding to suddenly hate each other."

Severus cleared his throat, and mumbled, "I'm afraid I wouldn't know."

Hermione stared at him, flabbergasted. They remained that way for several moments—Hermione staring at him whilst he stared at the floor, until he suddenly snapped, "As a young man, the only woman I was interested in was Lily. As an adult, there weren't any women interested in me, and I've never fancied the idea of rape or _paying_ someone for that. Either way, this conversation is pointless. I am dead and you're going to get married to some ponce at the Ministry's demand."

Hermione's gaze drifted back down to the letter she had once again clutched in her fist, and then she stalked toward the door. "Not if I can help it."

"Where are you going?"

"I told you, the Ministry. I need to have a word with whoever is in charge of this farce."

* * *

Hermione stepped from the Ministry's entry Floo and stopped to stare in shock. In retrospect, she really shouldn't have been surprised by the amount of people in the reception area, queueing for their visitor badges. No doubt there were _many_ people who were less than pleased with their latest owl-delivery. Hermione bit her lip and wavered, trying to decide if the queue was worth it to add her voice or if she should return a few days later to arrange a private meeting with Minister Behrends.

She staggered forward as another woman came in through the Floo behind her and barrelled straight into her back. The witch shot her a dirty look and snarled, "Watch where you're standing, this isn't your personal parlour, you know!"

Jumping a little guiltily for blocking the entrance, Hermione stepped to the side and pursed her lips to keep from returning the sour look. Perhaps she could set up an appointment to discuss a "sizable donation" another day. She had just made up her mind to turn about and go back the way she had come when a familiar voice called out.

"Hermione! Hey, Hermione!"

Hermione turned and scanned the crowd of people. A pale hand waggled and her name was called once more, drawing her eyes to a tall, freckled red-head with wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose.

"Percy!" Hermione waved back and waded a bit into the crowd, attempting to meet him in the middle.

"Hermione," he greeted, pitching his voice to be heard, "It feels like it's been an age. I hardly see you anymore. What have you been up to?"

She shrugged in response and answered, "Working, for the most part. I'm sorry! I'm afraid I've let my social life go a bit. How have you been? How's your girlfriend...Audrey, isn't it?"

"I can hardly hear you! Let's get out of here. Lunch?" He gestured at the Floos behind her.

"Yeah, okay, I'll follow you!"

He led her back to the Floos, and after a brief wait, they were spinning back out into the public Floo in Diagon Alley. He shook his head as if to shake off excess noise, and gave her a half smile. "Sorry about that, whatever you were in there for, you might want to go back on a different day."

"That's the conclusion I came to myself. I'm sorry I haven't seen you in a while. Once Ron and I broke things off, it became awkward at the Burrow until he finally did marry Romilda, and then I wasn't sure how to ask to be included again. How are things with you?"

Percy smiled, and shrugged. "I am well, Audrey is well. Work has been a right nightmare recently." He nodded back toward the Floos from which they had come. "There's a decent cafe across the way...?"

Hermione nodded acceptance and walked with him across the alley. "I'm fairly certain that I was there for the same reason as everyone else. Do you think with enough protesting, they'll not follow through, and repeal the law?"

Percy gave her a grave look. "In all honesty, I doubt it. I was on the panel that decided on the actual lettering of the law. We weren't given a yes or no option, merely the option of what stipulations to include. It's not necessarily a bad thing, you know. The number of children entered in the Book of Names each year has been getting increasingly smaller." He glanced at the hostess and smiled politely, requesting a table for two.

Hermione bit back a nasty remark as she followed Percy and the little blonde witch to the back of the cafe. Once seated, she said directly, "You cannot possibly believe that this is good, Percy!"

Percy tilted his head in a half nod, half shake that was non-committal at best. "Something needed to be done. I don't think this was the _best_ way to go about it, but I don't think the Ministry felt like there was much of a choice."

"It's a violation of our basic human rights!"

"Believe it or not, it's one of the more conservative versions put forth as a possibility." He answered sharply. "One of the proposals suggested that everyone in the listed age window be matched by Ministry-appointed arithmancers for 'relational success.' We wouldn't get to choose our partners at all. They'd be chosen for us by over-worked, under-paid workers who would—in all likelihood—be susceptible to bribe. Can you imagine being auctioned off to the highest bidder under the table? You are intelligent, independently wealthy, pretty and a war heroine with connections. There is almost no chance your partner would have been picked for you according to actual arithmantical equations."

Percy held up his hand, cutting off Hermione's protest before it could begin, and continued. "Another proposal wanted to put monitoring charms on the wedding contracts, ensuring fidelity and that the marriages were being...ah..._consummated_ on a regular basis. This could have been a lot worse, Hermione." Percy looked at the floor. "Fortunately, it was decided that the Ministry didn't honestly care if the babies were legitimate or not, so long as they happen."

"That's...that's barbaric!"

Percy gave her a sad smile. "As I said, I would have gone about it differently had I been in charge of this whole mess."

Hermione lifted her brows and gave him a challenging look. "How would _you_ have gone about it?"

"Monetary incentives and tax breaks," he responded promptly. "Something for a newlywed couple, something of increasing size for each additional child. Like that."

"You think people would get married and decide to have children for the sake of money?"

He gave her a sideways glance. "You'd be surprised, Hermione. Times have been tough for a lot of people, and sometimes the reason people decide to not have children is because of the expense involved. If you also happen to have grown up in a less-than-comfortable situation the idea of being rewarded by the government for something you may have wanted someday anyway can be sorely tempting. The idea was discarded because the panel decided that the results would not be as prolific, and parting with money when people should want to 'do their patriotic and civic duty' was deemed undesirable." He stared at his sandwich and added bitterly, "This has worked out more or less alright for me, since Audrey and I were already considering it someday, but it would have been nice to receive a tax break of some kind."

Hermione shook her head and said desperately, "What about those of us who had no intention of having children, or even of getting married? Can they really just decide to force us? Are they going to outlaw contraception as well?"

Percy gave her an uncomfortable look. "There is precedent."

Hermione stabbed angrily at her salad. "So I've been told."

The middle Weasley son gave her a furtive glance. "Look. I...I shouldn't tell you this. It will be my job if anyone at the Ministry finds out, but...but when we were kids, you were the only one who took my side sometimes while we were at school. You never were cruel to me, even when your friends and even my family was, and...and you kept my brother hidden that last year."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Percy, you don't owe me—"

"No, I don't," he agreed. "We all did the best we could. I thought I could make a change and help control the outcome from inside the Ministry. I was incorrect, but that didn't mean the system itself was bad. I believed in it then and I still do—otherwise I wouldn't still be trying. The fact is, I do still consider you a friend." He looked at her uncertainly, and Hermione saw a hint of the same vulnerability in the man across her that she had carried within herself for most of her formative years.

"Of course we're friends, Percy," she reassured him, and he nodded, his jaw a bit tight.

"As a _friend_ then, who looks out for his _friends_ the same way you've looked out for yours in the past, I want you to know that contraceptive potions are about to become a prescription, and a vital ingredient will become increasingly difficult and expensive for a home brewer to find. I imagine most apothecaries will have to stop carrying it for commercial purposes entirely," he murmured.

Hermione stared at the man across from her in horror. "Can...how...?"

"Sighing hibiscus requires a particular climate and care, and the licensing and tariffs on the importers who carry them are about to become—through no relation to the marriage law of course—very monitored."

"I can't believe this."

"Believe it, Hermione," he said firmly, "and if you're really serious about holding out as long as you can, I would go buy yourself as much sighing hibiscus as you can without landing yourself on the Ministry's radar. Otherwise someone _will_ be sent to confiscate it, based on the new laws, once they go into effect."

Hermione stood shakily. "Thank you, Percy. If you don't mind, I think I will go right now. And if there's anything I can do for you...anything, ever..."

Percy winced slightly, and then said, "Just be careful not to tip people off that you know. I need my job, and what's more, I _like_ it, most of the time." He hesitated and then added quietly, "If there is truly no one that you have in mind, would you consider George? He's been...lost the last ten years, and doesn't seem to be getting any better. If anything, he's gotten worse. If he's going to be forced into this—and he will be—he could really use someone he trusts."

Hermione's mouth went dry. "I...I can't promise..."

Percy shook his head violently. "I'm not asking you to. Just...think about it, will you? You could do worse than my brother, you know."

"Yeah. Yeah, Perce, I know."

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_A/N: Thank you so much for reading my latest creation! I wrote this for the 2014 SSHG Gift Exchange on LiveJournal! This story is complete in nine parts, and I've brushed it up and fleshed it out a little since it was posted for the Exchange, so re-readers may find a few *cough* several differences. It will be updated every Saturday.  
_

_I've been wanting to try my hand at the "Marriage Law Cliche" for a long time—please let me know what you think and review, it means the world to me!_


	2. II: The Time-Honoured Traditions

**Summary:** Hermione receives a letter from the Ministry informing her of a bit of new legislation, and attempts to deal with it in a unique way. My nod to the genre of Marriage Law Cliche fics, originally written for Dragoon 811 for the SSHG GiftFest 2014.

**Disclaimer:** All recognizable characters and fictional places do not belong to me; I am merely borrowing them for playtime before (respectfully) putting them back. Thank you, JKR, for allowing such things to happen.

**Pairings/Main Characters** Hermione Granger and Severus Snape. Minor appearances by Percy Weasley, Draco Malfoy, George Weasley, Harry Potter and OFCs: Minister Behrends and Serena Savage.

**Warnings:** This story is rated NC-17/MA, and it is _not_ suitable for children under age 18. It is Alternate Universe, and includes strong language, lemons (graphic sex), violence, mention of violence and mention of character death.

**Thank You:** To the wonderful ladies who worked with me on this fic: Savva, Shinigamioni, and Stgulik. You three are brilliant, and it was a blessing to have you on my team. I have tried (and failed) to come up with a suitable Super Hero Team beginning with S that isn't already trademarked. Further thanks to BSC_AG for a second pair of eyes, and AdelaideArcher, for Brit Picking. :-)

**Dedication:** This fic was written for my very good friend, Dragoon811, who has always encouraged me to write, and was kind enough not to be annoyed that I completely ignored her prompts. You're a doll!

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**HAPPILY EVER AFTER THE FACT**  
**By: TycheSong**

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**II: The Time-Honoured Traditions of Bribery, Smuggling and Blackmail**

_December, 2009_

Minister Behrends was long, thin man with sideburns nearly to his chin and a thick stripe of silver at his left temple. The look he directed at Hermione was slightly awed, and Hermione amused herself for several moments wondering if it was because of who she was or because of the donation size she was dangling in front of him.

"Miss Granger...Hermione...may I call you Hermione?"

Hermione smiled sweetly. "By all means, Minister. After all, we are speaking of a great deal of money. It seems strange to insist on formalities, after all."

"Indeed. Indeed." He swallowed. "Of course, you must call me Terrence."

Hermione nodded dutifully, friendly smile still plastered on her face, and murmured, "Of course."

"I've always been careful—very careful—to run a clean ministry." He shook a finger at the ceiling in emphasis. "Whilst donations are always appreciated, I must make it clear that those who donate to the fine cause of keeping our government in order do not have their politics prioritised. I realize you have always been outspoken regarding various laws, particularly those regarding magical creatures—"

"I'm not looking to influence laws now or in the future, you'll be pleased to know." Hermione assured him, then added casually, "I merely wish to be certain it is acknowledged that I am medically exempt from the latest law that has been passed through administration."

Terrence Behrends went pale and shifted in his seat. "If your healer has already notated the condition, of course, by our exemption standards...your medical file couldn't be altered...they are magically kept. That is, I mean to say, you are aware that I cannot make exceptions to our laws. The entirety of the British Wizarding population is being held to this law, including myself. Of course I am _more_ than happy to accommodate an actual pre-existing medical condition...?" His voice lifted hopefully, and his hands lifted as if in supplication.

Hermione's pursed her lips disapprovingly, and the Minister's face fell as his hopes were dashed with that look. Hermione answered tightly, "The Wizarding world has always struck me as very _traditional_. Taking a very sizable donation that could do a tremendous amount of good for the public has long been an acceptable reason to offer things like tax exemptions or other small acknowledgements and perks that do not in any way _hurt_ the public. One could even think of it as a fine in advance, if one were so inclined. The only difference is everyone wins, and no one has any bad press."

Behrends appeared a bit sick. "Your donation is of course very generous—"

"My _proposed_ donation, Minister." Hermione corrected him. She was pleased to see him look even more unwell, and he actually wrung his hands. For a moment she almost felt sorry for him—he had been doing a good job since he had taken the position. Hermione had always been openly supportive of his administration and he had most likely not expected to receive such a blatant bribe from her.

"Ah, yes. Your proposed donation is very generous, but I cannot simply make exemptions based on funds—your generation and year level is the very one that the law would like to target in particular, and I have never accepted these sort of donations before." He looked at her seriously, his gaze just a bit pleading.

"It's always been my pride, my platform, that donation 'perks' like you are suggesting _don't_ happen. Surely you understand..." The minister stood and took a deep breath, then started again. "As I mentioned, not even _I_ am exempt from this law." He licked his lips and said tentatively, "Perhaps another arrangement could be made? I would very much like your support, and as I'm sure you are aware, the marriages are not monitored..."

Hermione gave him a dangerous look. "I would like to make it clear, Minister, this donation entirely depends upon the contents of my medical file and how they pertain to this new so-called 'Marriage Law.' As does my goodwill toward your administration. I have long been a supporter of it and you.

"I am _not_ a supporter of this law, and I, like so many others of 'my generation and year' as you put it, will not hesitate to be very vocal in my belief in your incompetence as Minister. It is my generation that took down Voldemort, and we did it as adolescents. Do you really think your political career can withstand us as adults? I would honestly hate to do that. You have been a fine minister so far, but I cannot support a government that thinks nothing of forcing their will on the private lives of the people in this way."

Behrends actually removed a handkerchief and mopped his brow. "Miss Granger...are you...are you _threatening_ me? Am I going to need to summon an Auror?"

Hermione gave him a bland look. "No. I am not threatening you. Just informing you of the conditions of my _proposed_ donation, and reminding you of just whose rights you are taking away... much as Voldemort tried to do."

"I believe it is best, Miss Granger, that you leave now." The minister straightened as he said it, seeming to draw on his resolve. His voice didn't waver, but he did still look a little pale. The awe was long gone, which was a bit of a pity.

"As you say," Hermione answered, and then smiled coldly. "I'm offering your government a great deal of money in return for a very small exemption for an upstanding citizen. Furthermore, granting me this would hurt absolutely no one. I know you are a busy man, with an extremely unhappy constituency right now. I will give you forty-eight hours to come to a rational decision. Good day."

Hermione picked up her handbag more calmly than she felt, and exited the minister's office with what felt like rocks in her stomach. She had been so certain he would be eager to accept her deal. It really was a substantial amount of money. She hadn't counted on the minister being quite possibly the one principled politician in the history of the world.

As surprising as it was, it seemed there was a _very_ good chance she might actually need the small stash of sighing hibiscus she had started to secret away in her pantry at home. She had bought small amounts from several different apothecaries in various towns. And she was apparently not the only one; most of the apothecaries she had visited had already been entirely sold out of ready-made contraceptives, and low on most of the components needed to home brew. Whilst most of the herbs would likely be replenished, the sighing hibiscus would not be, and Hermione had snatched up what she could, confident that the small amounts left would fit Percy's conservative requirements. Though she had already done it several times, Hermione ran through her stash mentally again, calculating how many doses she would be able to brew with what she had. As before, she came to the same conclusion: eight months.

Hermione entered her work building, heading toward her lab on the second floor without registering anything around her. She wasn't especially social, and currently didn't have a boyfriend or a lover, but she did enjoy sex enough that being abstinent for however long the law was in effect was not something she was willing to commit to just yet. She could, she supposed, count days and only indulge when the chances of pregnancy were low, but that method was never a guarantee. What she needed was someone in an official capacity to exempt her, and be willing to approve her medical status for a contraceptive prescription.

Hermione sat down at her desk with a frustrated sigh, and rubbed her eyes. "I suppose I could try the barrier method, like a Muggle," she muttered.

"You would probably have to date a Muggle for that. I doubt most wizards would know what a condom is, and would find the idea barbaric."

Severus' voice came from above her on the wall, and Hermione lifted her head to give the portrait a shrewd look. "I could go on hormone pills, or get the shot—Depo-Provera."

The portrait shook his head. "The effectiveness is severely hampered in witches—perhaps as low as only seventy to eighty percent."

Hermione blinked, startled. "How would you know that?"

Severus' face went expressionless—a clear sign of discomfort—and he explained, "My mother was on a Muggle oral contraceptive when she became pregnant with me. My father accused her of not taking them and 'ruining his life' on purpose. It was something he always resented her for, and they fought about it often. I made a point of looking up any studies done on the issue when I was older, and found that only a couple have been done, but they all concluded the effectiveness of Muggle hormone birth control is not nearly as reliable in witches. I take it your meeting with the minister didn't go well?"

"I gave him forty-eight hours to re-think his decision, but there is a good chance I am going to end up unable to procure birth control or the means to brew my own, and married against my will to someone," Hermione answered glumly. "I was so pleased that the Ministry finally seemed to have someone in charge who was genuinely trying to be an honest politician, and now what I would _give_ to have a corrupt idiot back in office like Fudge."

"Keep in mind the other side of that, Hermione."

Hermione arched a questioning brow.

"A politician like Fudge would be just as susceptible to bribery from others as from you, and not everyone would be bribing the Ministry to be exempt."

"Like Percy was saying," Hermione concluded. "I might have just as easily found myself auctioned off to someone with better connections." Her head thumped back into her hands. "What am I going to do, Severus? I'm going to have to find a supplier of sighing hibiscus somewhere!"

There was silence for a long moment, and when Hermione lifted her head again, the portrait's frame was empty. She gave the empty frame an irritated scowl. The git had abandoned her, and there was no real telling where he had gone. He could be roaming the halls, at his portrait at Hogwarts, or at her home. He might even have portraiture elsewhere he hadn't bothered to mention to her. She huffed, and then looked at her research notes for her current project listlessly, and then back at the empty frame. Gathering her things, she left her lab, pausing to knock on Serena Savage's door.

There was a muffled "Enter," and she let herself in, stopping short when she saw her boss' face. Hermione had clearly interrupted a good cry. Feeling awkward, she closed the door behind her and said, "I am not feeling well—I thought I would be fine for work, but that's not the case. If I may presume, you look as if you might benefit from a day off as well."

Serena's shoulders quivered, and she spat bitterly, "It's that fucking law, of course. The same with you, I imagine. They're not making exceptions for anyone. I spoke to my Healer this morning, and he threatened to turn me in. It's apparently been made clear that their licenses will be in question and revoked if women are suddenly sterile or medically unable to bear children, and it's never been noted previously in their medical files."

Hermione sat down across from Serena, and murmured, "I went directly to the minister this morning. I don't believe my trip did any good either."

"I wanted a child, maybe two, someday," said Serena. "At the right time, with the right wizard. I never thought it could be forced on me."

"Serena. I think...I think I might have an idea. We may not be able to avoid getting married, but I think we can still avoid having children before we're ready to. Is Mr. Malfoy in his office today?"

The other woman looked a little startled, but vaguely hopeful. "No, the owners rarely come in for longer than a few hours a week."

"Can you set up a meeting for me with him?"

Serena nodded. "Yes, I can arrange that. I'll set up a meeting for us first thing in the morning."

Hermione shook her head. "I don't think you should come to this one. It requires Mr. Malfoy's willingness to work outside the law. So it depends on whether the money he stands to gain is worth the potential legal consequences. If he shoots me down or even fires me for suggesting that he become involved, I don't want you to be touched by it."

Serena gave Hermione a measured look. "You're not worried about getting in trouble yourself for suggesting something below-board?"

"With the other partners, I wouldn't risk it. But with Mr. Malfoy...I think he would be interested in hearing my thoughts. Do you think there's any chance he would meet this afternoon?"

Serena swallowed. "I...I can try. You had better know what you're doing, though."

"I don't, actually. That's why I need _him."_

* * *

Sharp grey eyes studied Hermione for a moment, and then Draco Malfoy said carefully, "I am aware that the Ministry's latest grand idea is about to make Contraceptive Potion a Healer's writ. I don't understand what this has to do with me, however."

"I have been reliably informed that a certain potion component is also going to be very difficult for one to get one's hands on commercially. The demand for that potion under the table is about to go through the roof. If one had access to a dedicated potion brewer they trusted, and the contacts to get said flower into the country without a fuss..."

"You are asking me to smuggle something into the country, then have someone brew and sell it illegally."

"I'm hypothesising that such an endeavour is bound to occur, considering how much potential money it could make."

"Illegal money."

"I was under the impression that Goblins have never really cared for politics. Should bootlegging of contraceptives become an enterprise of someone—hypothetically—Goblins have never been subject to the Ministry's demands when it comes to bank account access or cash flow."

Malfoy crossed his arms and said directly, "The Ministry might not be able to freeze the account, Granger, but they _could_ send said hypothetical bootlegger to Azkaban."

"Only if said cunning bootlegger gets caught." Hermione strove to keep her voice light, but her heart was in her throat. For the second time in as many days, she was attempting something that could get her into a great deal of trouble, something she had been assiduously avoiding since the war. She rather liked her life free of criminal charges.

"I could fire you for this, or turn you into the MLE. I and what is left of my family have been working very hard to move away from the image of one that thinks it's above the law and other people."

"You won't. You owe me that much," Hermione shot back. "If you tell me you are not interested, you will never hear of it again, I swear it."

Draco waited another heartbeat, and then unlocked his desk with a twisting motion of his wand. After thumbing through several files, he withdrew a couple sheets of paper and carefully placed one in front of Hermione, and one in front of himself. He smiled slightly and said, his voice bland, "Just as with the original, a breach of contract will curse you to silence. Not the sort that wears off or that St. Mungo's can reverse. In addition, you will also get very, very sick from this version."

Hermione felt her brows furrow, and glanced down at the page. It was a contract of silence, not dissimilar to the one she had signed when she had joined the company. _This_ contract, however, outlined in detail the operation and locations one would use to create, brew, and bottle illegal Contraceptive Potions. It also mentioned both the sighing hibiscus and her by name.

Hermione's gaze flew up to Malfoy's, and her breath caught. "You knew what I wanted to discuss! How...?"

There was a discreet cough from their right, and Hermione's head whipped around to look at the wall, where a rather smug-looking Severus was crammed into the same frame as an austere-looking elderly lady.

"Severus informed me that you might be interested in the topic, yes. We thought we'd wait to see if you actually came to me or if I would have to nudge you a bit, let slip about the lower labs or something." Draco's expression was amused.

Hermione gave the portrait a look that promised retribution for not giving her a fair warning, and turned her attention back to the man sitting across from her. "Lower labs?"

The blond smiled unrepentantly. "Oops. Dear me, did I say that?" He nodded toward the page. "Sign, Granger, and I'll show you."

Hermione didn't pause before affixing her name to the bottom of the sheet, and her old nemesis laughed.

"Just jump right in, without even reading it, huh? Makes me wish I had sneaked in a few other clauses after all. Severus was so stodgy about what he would allow me to make you promise, though. Take my arm, then. I think this will be rather fun. I almost never get to show off to you anymore. It's apparently unseemly for adults to do that, and I've been dying to go 'look what I've got' at you for ages."

What Malfoy had, apparently, was a basement floor of the building only accessible by Apparition—there were no doors, windows, Floos or stairs on the entire level. Since one had to know where a place was in order to Apparate to it successfully, it was an easy and rather ingenious way to keep security tight.

The room was large—twice again the size of her own lab space, and contained several stacked crates of what appeared to be rare wand woods and cores. Ones that were typically very difficult to obtain. A large numeral "3" was painted on the floor where they stood, clearly the focus of Malfoy's Apparition and a good indication that there were at least three of these secret basement rooms.

Hermione lifted her brows in silent reproof, and then grimaced as she realized the hypocrisy behind the expression. Malfoy looked amused, and swept a hand in a grand gesture. "Look what _I've_ got, Granger." His face became serious and as he continued. "There is plenty of space once I get rid of those boxes that you don't see me in possession of. It's climate controlled, and on absolutely none of the existing floor plans of the building. You find me a brewer you trust to do the job right, and I'll find a supplier willing to work off the Ministry's radar."

His gaze became hard and unforgiving. "It is also going to be your job to find a way to discreetly sell the finished product. If this is going to happen, no one is going to know about it without getting their hands a bit dirty, including you. I've found that it's a much better incentive to make deals like this successful and undetected."

"If you can guarantee the raw materials and space, I'll find you a brewer and come up with a sales plan. I just need a few weeks to get myself engaged to someone who won't get in the way."

"Then it seems we have a plan. Incidentally, I'm looking for a marriage of convenience, too. I don't suppose you're interested?"

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "No, thank you. As convenient as that would be, I can't see myself being able to convince Harry or Ron that you aren't using the _Imperius_ curse on me, which just invites unwanted attention."

"Ouch, Granger. You know I'm really not that awful." The look he gave her was so falsely wounded that she couldn't help but snort a little in laughter.

Composing herself with difficulty, she offered, "Might I direct your attention toward Miss Savage? I don't believe she is taken, and is currently not interested in having a family."

"Arcturus Savage would be pleased to have me offer; he's always felt that I needed a wife to 'settle' me anyway, since I took over the Malfoy side of our business dealings. She's a pure-blood, too."

Hermione gave him a very frosty look. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

"I said she's intelligent, too," he answered blandly, then gave her a sideways glance. "Circe, but you're sensitive. It's been over ten years."

She chose to ignore his last statement. "That's what I thought I heard. If you'll excuse me, now, Mr. Malfoy. I have work to do, and a Weasley to visit by the end of the month. I've already put it off longer than I should have."

Malfoy grimaced. "Really? You're going _there_ for a husband when you could have had me?"

"He's not nearly as much of a wanker. More imaginative, too."

"You _do_ know that I am your boss, right? I own a third of this company—my name's on the door and everything."

"And if you fire me, all my patents follow me, according to my contract. Not to mention that your silencing contracts only have a six month life before expiration once employment has been terminated."

"Blackmail doesn't suit you."

"Unfortunately, Minister Behrends didn't think so, either."

Draco Malfoy gave her an appreciative look. "Good heavens, Granger, you _have_ been busy."

* * *

_A/N: Once again, thank you so much for reading, especially those who also review. It's wonderful to hear what you guys think, and I've met some lovely new people with this story!_

_Yes, I am aware of other forms of birth control not mentioned in this chapter (diaphragms, non-hormonal IUDs, etc). I did originally try to include more, but the flow of the story started to gum up around this point, and the decision was made to keep it simple. Thank you!_


	3. III: Engaged and Disengaged

**Summary:** Hermione receives a letter from the Ministry informing her of a bit of new legislation, and attempts to deal with it in a unique way. My nod to the genre of Marriage Law Cliche fics, originally written for Dragoon 811 for the SSHG GiftFest 2014.

**Disclaimer:** All recognizable characters and fictional places do not belong to me; I am merely borrowing them for playtime before (respectfully) putting them back. Thank you, JKR, for allowing such things to happen.

**Pairings/Main Characters** Hermione Granger and Severus Snape. Minor appearances by Percy Weasley, Draco Malfoy, George Weasley, Harry Potter and OFCs: Minister Behrends and Serena Savage.

**Warnings:** This story is rated NC-17/MA, and it is _not_ suitable for children under age 18. It is Alternate Universe, and includes strong language, lemons (graphic sex), violence, mention of violence and mention of character death.

**Thank You:** To the wonderful ladies who worked with me on this fic: Savva, Shinigamioni, and Stgulik. You three are brilliant, and it was a blessing to have you on my team. I have tried (and failed) to come up with a suitable Super Hero Team beginning with S that isn't already trademarked. Further thanks to BSC_AG for a second pair of eyes, and AdelaideArcher, for Brit Picking. :-)

**Dedication:** This fic was written for my very good friend, Dragoon811, who has always encouraged me to write, and was kind enough not to be annoyed that I completely ignored her prompts. You're a doll!

* * *

**HAPPILY EVER AFTER THE FACT**  
**By: TycheSong**

* * *

**III: Engaged and Disengaged**

_December, 2009_

Hermione stepped into Weasley's Wizard Wheezes with mixed emotions. She was a thirty-year-old witch entering a joke shop, which never felt quite right to her. Yes, the shop did have a sizable adult selection on the upper story, including a lot of innovative home security products they'd created during the war. WWW simply was not the sort of store that Hermione was used to frequenting—for the jokes or the adult products. The number of times she had entered WWW could be counted on one hand, and most of those visits had been to stop in to say hello to Ron.

This time, she wasn't there to visit Ron, but George. The implications of that were terrifying to her in a way that very few things had terrified her in the past. She honestly couldn't remember even the Battle of Hogwarts making her quake the way she currently was. Of course, she hadn't had the time to consider her situation mid-battle either. She had plenty of time to think as she made her way to George's flat, and couldn't help but feel that it was _wrong._

He was a good man; she knew that. He was her friend, he wouldn't hurt her or ask her to give up her job or any of the other things that a husband might try to demand. Still, she didn't want to marry him. She wasn't even attracted to him, and he had never shown any interest in her, either.

The shop was busier than she had expected—Hermione hadn't realised that school holidays had started. She smiled a greeting at Verity as she passed the cash register. The other woman smiled back distractedly as she rang up a group of teenagers, expertly moving a small display out of the way just as one of them shot a fake-wand popper and nearly knocked it over.

The chaos jangled on Hermione's nerves, and she rolled her already tight shoulders as she edged her way through the shop. Thankfully, the same stairs that led to the adult section continued to the top floor, and she wasn't forced to make her way through the maze of WWW again to get to her ultimate goal.

The third story, which served as George's flat, office, and experiment laboratory, was an open layout. Hermione suspected that after growing up in the Burrow, George preferred wide open spaces.

The door at the head of the stairs was amusingly printed with "Do Not Enter, Not an Exit."

Hermione knocked loudly, trying to be heard over the noise below. There was silence on the other side of the door, and then it suddenly opened, revealing George.

He looked...tired, Hermione decided. Older than he actually was, and surprised to see her. Percy hadn't said anything to him, then. "Hello, George," she said quietly.

"You knock very forcefully," he replied, then gestured in invitation. Hermione stepped into the flat, and blinked at the sudden silence. George had obviously placed a thick and heavy silencing ward all about the walls of his flat, filtering out the noise from the floors below him. The complete absence of ambient noise was bleak instead of relaxing. It was if even his flat reflected the emotions of the strangely moody man.

His workbenches were littered with various knick-knacks that were clearly still in the developmental stage. Small potion vials and sweets were interspersed with fake quills, wands and bits of crumpled parchment. There was a lurid purple dildo, she noticed with an amused smile, and three little glass cubes, two of which were black and cracked, one that was clear and glistened faintly.

Hermione turned back to look at George, only to find him sitting on a kitchen stool, staring at his hands as if she was no longer in the room. Clearing her throat awkwardly, Hermione ventured, "Uh, hi. How are you, George?"

He glanced up and gave her a flat look. "Not good, honestly. I can't imagine you're exactly pleased right now either."

His honesty melted Hermione's nerves a little, and she sneered in agreement. "I've certainly had better weeks. I was told that you and I might be able to help each other, though."

George laughed, a nasty barking sound completely devoid of humour. "Harry's been running his mouth again, eh? I don't know that I'm really the best for you, Hermione."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "Harry? No, I haven't spoken to him. I ran into Percy at the Ministry, actually, and he suggested we talk."

"Percy?" George looked startled. "Really? I didn't realise he knew."

"Knew?"

George stood, agitated, and wandered away from the kitchen and her to stare at one of his work benches. "Look, Hermione, I won't ever be able to give you a real marriage, or a family. Any woman I marry is going to go into it knowing that she's signing a prenuptial agreement and will never share my bed. I'm really not fit as husband material. You should look elsewhere."

Hermione crossed her arms. "I'm perfectly fine with all of that, to be frank," she said. "I would also like to stipulate that we don't take magical vows that bind us forever. Someday this law will be repealed, and I want us to be able to walk away when it happens."

George snorted. "Sounds like this might work after all, then." He shook his head and whispered, "I've always known that I wouldn't get to marry the love of my life, but I never thought I'd be forced to marry someone I definitely _didn't_ want. How fucked up is this? We save their sorry, Imperiused arses, give up _everything_ we've ever cared for, and this is how they thank us?"

Hermione blinked in surprise. "What do you mean you can't marry the love of your life? I didn't realise you had someone special. George, I never would have come if I knew you already had someone."

George gave her another flat look. "Gay marriage isn't legal in Britain, Hermione, and it wasn't listed as an exemption. We thought it was a mistake at first, we went down to the Ministry to be sure and file for exemption. Do you know what that heartless, idiotic bitch told me?" His voice rose, not waiting for her to answer. "She told me that, sorry, no exemption is being made for people whose proclivities don't swing the way they should."

He shouted it again, picking up an empty potion bottle on the counter and shaking it in emphasis. "The way they _should_, Hermione, like something is fucking wrong with me. She said that gay people had been having children for years out of duty, and that this was no different!" He threw the bottle angrily, dashing it into hundreds of glass shards against the door of his flat. He stood there for a moment, his face a mask of stricken grief. "Why are they doing this, Hermione? Are they really so blind that they can't see how many of us are ghosts that just didn't have the decency to die?"

He collapsed to the floor. Hermione stepped forward and sank next to him, wrapping her arms around him. "I don't know," she murmured back. "I don't know why they feel they have the right." He cried for several long minutes, and Hermione found tears leaking from her eyes, too. She felt a mixture of angry, helpless hurt and pity, for both George and herself.

He quieted after a while, and then finally brought his head up, scrubbing at his eyes. "I'm going to have to marry you, aren't I?" he asked, his voice as small and as lost as a boy's.

"It's not fair, George, and we'll make them pay. Somehow, we'll make them pay for this. In the meantime, all we can do is fight them as we can. One day at a time, one defiance at a time."

"I wish Fred were here," he said tiredly. "I could survive this...this...monstrosity if he were here. I don't know how I am going to do it without him. Eleven years, and it still feels like my lungs are being ripped out of my chest. I can't change it though, I tried and I can't."

"I'm sorry," Hermione whispered, feeling inadequate.

"Let's get it over with, yeah? Tomorrow morning?" George's voice was hollow. "Isn't really any point in putting it off. They'll only fine us if we wait until after January first. I don't want to take the chance that something will change your mind." He gave her a wry, bitter smile. "I doubt too many women are interested in getting married with the understanding that her husband will shag men instead of her, and she doesn't even get shopping perks out of it."

"I'm quite able to pay for my own shopping trips, George. And no offence, but I want to sleep with you about as much as you want to sleep with me."

He glanced up at her and smiled genuinely for the first time. "That's actually very much a relief."

"Who would you marry? If you could?" Hermione asked, curious.

George gave her an embarrassed look. "You'll laugh."

"No, I won't."

"Yes, you will."

"No, really, I won't."

George looked sheepish, then admitted quietly, "Lee."

"Jordan?" Hermione asked incredulously. "Isn't he—?"

"Married to Alicia? Yeah. He's not gay. Doesn't mean I'm not in love with him."

Hermione stared at the man next for a long moment. "You know, I honestly don't think you could _be_ a more tragic person if you tried, George."

He snorted. "Right? Fred would smack me."

"Want me to, instead?" Hermione lifted a hand and arched her eyebrows with fake menace.

"I'd rather not, thank you." He eyed her hand warily, as if he thought she might actually do it.

"Was he gay? Fred, I mean?"

George gave her a dirty look. "We weren't _actually_ the same person, Hermione."

"No, I know. I didn't mean..." Hermione sighed irritably. "I didn't mean it that way. I was just curious. They say it's a genetic inclination, and since you were identical twins, I just wondered."

George rolled his eyes. "No, Fred wasn't gay. Now get out of here. I have glass to banish, a full bottle of whiskey to drink, and a Ministry-approved wedding to attend hungover tomorrow morning."

"You sure know how to make a woman feel all fluttery, George." Hermione stood, and George followed, grunting slightly as he stood.

"You know I won't care if you get yourself a boyfriend, Hermione, but do us both a favour and count the days properly. I doubt the last thing either of us wishes is to have a child in wedlock."

Hermione shook her head. "Goddamn Ministry is making everything backwards lately. I'll see you tomorrow. Ten?"

"Sure, if you like." George found his aforementioned whiskey, and held it up for inspection.

Hermione pursed her lips, suddenly worried that he wouldn't remember any of their conversation the next day. "Tell you what, George. I'll come by here at ten, and we'll Floo together."

"Uh-huh. Please get out, Hermione. I'm planning my personal stag party."

Hermione made a face, and then carefully picked her way over the broken glass on the floor, and out the doorway.

* * *

"I'm getting married in two hours." Hermione took a fortifying sip of tea. "Do you suppose I should dress up just a little, or do you think that will just make George feel awkward?"

Severus ignored her nervous chatter, and stared longingly at her tea. "I wish I had been painted with a hot cuppa. I almost miss it more than I do new reading material," he said wistfully. "If you ever have a portrait done, be sure to tell the artist to paint you a cup of tea."

"My portrait for RS&amp;M was painted when I was hired as a head researcher, same as you. I could commission a still life for you, though?"

He didn't answer at first, and Hermione glanced up to find a relieved look on his face. "I...yes. That would be nice." He paused, and then added, "I am very glad to know that you have been painted, Hermione. I will be this way until I am either destroyed or too faded by light for my likeness to hold the magic any longer. Your company is something I...value a great deal. It is something that has bothered me—that someday you would be gone and I would be left without it."

Hermione softened. "I treasure your friendship, Severus, more than I can say without thoroughly embarrassing us both. I'm sorry you have to live this way. My portrait probably won't be hung for another hundred years. You died far too young." Hermione wrapped her arms around herself, attempting to ward off tears. "I wish you could come to the Ministry today. I can't help but feel scared and helpless in this situation, and I would feel better if you were with me."

"Who says I can't?" he retorted. "You hauled Phineas Nigellus all over the countryside on a painfully long camping trip when you were eighteen. What's stopping you from taking me to the Ministry? If anyone at the Ministry tries to tell you no, just hex them to silence."

Hermione laughed, tears still threatening to spill over. "Sometimes you make me feel like a moron, Severus. Now, what shall I wear?"

"Black, of course." Severus answered stoutly.

"Of course." Hermione's agreement was wry.

"With an armband."

Hermione stopped short. "You know, I rather like that idea. I think I shall go with gray, though. So that the armband is nice and prominent. I'll bring one for George, too."

"I'm sure he'd appreciate that."

An hour and a half later, Hermione was letting herself in through the front door of WWW, once more picking her way through the Friday morning shoppers. Verity met her gaze briefly, and then lowered her eyes, clearly pre-occupied with something.

At the top of the stairs, there was a package on the doorstep. Taped on top was an envelope with her name on it. A sense of foreboding settled on Hermione's shoulders as she knocked on George's door. There was no answer. Hermione knocked again, louder, hoping that perhaps George was in the shower, or even just hung over and not awake yet. Still nothing. Her stomach twisted in a knot as she slowly sank to the top step and ripped the envelope off the small package. Inside was a folded card:

_Hermione,_

_As you may have noticed, I'm not here, nor will I be returning. At least not until our Ministry can sort itself out. This does mean that I will not be keeping our appointment. I apologise for the inconvenience this causes you, but I have come to the conclusion that some things, as we said, are worth fighting for—or in this case, against. I may not ever gain the right to marry as I truly choose, but I will not give in and allow myself to be forced into a marriage that is against my very nature. Leaving the country is preferable, even if it means I am no longer welcome home. There is, in honesty, little to keep me here that would be worth the compromise. Should the law ever be repealed I would return, but on the chance that it never is, I have no wish to be bound for the rest of my life._

_In recompense I leave you with a small token that I cannot help but believe will be better off in your hands than anyone else's. Including Ron, to whom I've signed over the entirety of WWW in order to keep it safe from seizure. He is aware that I am leaving you something. It is probably for the best that I did not explain what._

_George Weasley_

Hermione stared at the letter in horror. "Oh, fuck. _Fuck._ What the fuck am I going to do now?"

A muffled sound came from her bag, and Hermione realized guiltily that from the angle of the bag, Severus might very well be face down inside. Hastily she opened it and pulled the portrait out.

Severus looked about ready to have one of his snarky rants, but then checked himself when he saw her face. "Hermione, what is it? What's happened? You're pale as a ghost."

"He's gone," she answered. "George is gone; he's skipped town. I can't blame him, I'd do the same in his shoes, but... but this leaves me with only two and a half weeks to find someone before the new year, as per Ministry requirements. I'd need to find someone who wouldn't expect me to be 'Suzie House-witch' and not alert the authorities when it comes to our new side venue...and oh, _shite_, I still need to find a competent brewer who can keep their mouth shut and come up with an illegal marketing strategy in the next month. This is awful."

Severus gave her a commiserating look. "I'm sorry, Hermione. Perhaps...perhaps you _should_ do the same. Pack your things, leave town. You're intelligent enough to get a job just about anywhere."

Hermione scrubbed her face with her hands. "I like the job I have, the house I have, the friends I have. Besides," she added quietly, "I can't leave my parents, Severus. Not after what I've done to them."

They remained silent for a moment longer, and then, in an awkward attempt to change the subject, Severus asked, "What is in the package?"

Nonplussed, Hermione picked up the small bundle and turned it over. "Something George has left behind for me in apology, according to his card." Ripping it open, Hermione removed a small glass cube filled with some kind of glittery sand. It was the same trinket she had seen on his desk the day before. She rolled it around in her palm like a die, watching the gold sand shift, weighing the cube unevenly. It bore no other markings. Mystified, Hermione unfolded a second note, which she found inside the bundle.

Hermione read silently, her eyes growing wide as she did so. "It's...it's a time-travelling device." Hermione blurted. She glanced down at the innocuous cube in her hand. "Apparently after the fiasco at the Department of Mysteries, _someone_ scooped up a broken time turner and brought it to the twins. He made something...new from the remains. He's already used two to try to go back and save Fred." She glanced up from the cube in her palm to give Severus a sober look. "He couldn't, though. He couldn't save Fred, and he can't bear to go back and watch his brother die a fourth time. So he's given me the last one. It will give me about a day—any day—as far back as I like."

"That's remarkable. Think what you could do with it, Hermione. You could stop yourself from trying to reverse the damage done to your parents, leave them as Monica and Wendall," he suggested.

"I could." Hermione frowned. "I was always told that crossing your own timeline while time-travelling could cause serious damage to reality, though."

"You could assassinate the minister before this law became an idea."

"I'm not sure I have cold-blooded murder inside of me, and aside from this marriage law, his government actually has done a world of good. Percy said this law was a collective thing—no one person was able to undo it. I'd hate to undo the Equality Act and then end up in the same situation anyway." Hermione said disgustedly. She was silent for another moment, and then, almost shyly, "Severus?"

"Yes?"

"Maybe I could save _you."_

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_A/N: Ahh, and now we get down to it. ;-) Thank you, once again, for taking the time to read this latest installment! Please review._

_A hearty congratulations to those who won a 2014 SSHG Fic Award! It was so much fun to be a part of that! :-D If you are one of those who have no idea what I'm talking about and want more information, there is a link on my profile!_

_Also, it was brought to my attention from a couple different reviewers that this chapter uploaded as a chapter from one of my other stories instead. I am so, so sorry for the mix up, and hopefully this makes a whole lot more sense! Thank you Julia Ba, Isis-Lupin, and JM2010 for letting me know! :-D Tyche_


	4. IV: If I Could Turn Back Time

**Summary:** Hermione receives a letter from the Ministry informing her of a bit of new legislation, and attempts to deal with it in a unique way. My nod to the genre of Marriage Law Cliche fics, originally written for Dragoon 811 for the SSHG GiftFest 2014.

**Disclaimer:** All recognizable characters and fictional places do not belong to me; I am merely borrowing them for playtime before (respectfully) putting them back. Thank you, JKR, for allowing such things to happen.

**Pairings/Main Characters** Hermione Granger and Severus Snape. Minor appearances by Percy Weasley, Draco Malfoy, George Weasley, Harry Potter and OFCs: Minister Behrends and Serena Savage.

**Warnings:** This story is rated NC-17/MA, and it is _not_ suitable for children under age 18. It is Alternate Universe, and includes strong language, lemons (graphic sex), violence, mention of violence and mention of character death.

**Thank You:** To the wonderful ladies who worked with me on this fic: Savva, Shinigamioni, and Stgulik. You three are brilliant, and it was a blessing to have you on my team. I have tried (and failed) to come up with a suitable Super Hero Team beginning with S that isn't already trademarked. Further thanks to BSC_AG for a second pair of eyes, and AdelaideArcher, for Brit Picking. :-)

**Dedication:** This fic was written for my very good friend, Dragoon811, who has always encouraged me to write, and was kind enough not to be annoyed that I completely ignored her prompts. You're a doll!

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**HAPPILY EVER AFTER THE FACT**  
**By: TycheSong**

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**IV: If I Could Turn Back Time (I Wouldn't Assassinate the Minister)**

_April 1998_

Hermione drew her cloak hood down further around her face as she stepped quickly through the streets of Hogsmeade. If she had any doubts about George's genius, this had more than effectively laid them to rest. Whilst she hadn't yet confirmed that she was at the exact day she had specified, she clearly was in the right time period.

Hogsmeade was largely overrun with Death Eaters—many of the shops were boarded up and closed. Bulletins announcing the town curfew and offering rewards for various Order members were posted on almost every building. Hermione had glanced briefly at her own wanted poster and shivered. She looked impossibly young; hardly old enough to be running about, trying to bring down an evil despot.

A discarded _Daily Prophet_ in a bin reassured her that it was, in fact one day before the battle. Hermione ducked behind what had been Madam Puddifoot's Teahouse and Disillusioned herself, not wanting her presence to be marked. The very _last_ thing she needed was to be caught in Hogsmeade before she even got the chance to speak with the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Stepping back out onto the main road, Hermione carefully picked her way around the few pedestrians braving the streets of the occupied town.

The safest way into the castle was no doubt using Ariana's passage from the Hog's Head to the Room of Requirement. Unfortunately, this would mean stepping out into the makeshift barracks and headquarters of Dumbledore's Army, and Hermione couldn't afford to be drawn into the battle again when she only had the space of a day to convince Snape to get out.

This left Hermione with three options. She could waltz up to the front gate and, upon being caught, demand to speak with the headmaster. This was an idiotic plan for a few reasons, of course. While certainly older, Hermione did not doubt that she was still recognizable. While the most likely person to find her was Hagrid, it was just as possible that she'd be caught by Filch or the Carrows and wind up in the presence of Voldemort.

Her second option was to take the passage from the Honeydukes cellar to the statue of the One-Eyed Witch in an upper corridor at Hogwarts. While the most direct route, the passageway was also a slide. The thought of climbing up from the valley all the way to the third floor of the castle didn't really appeal. The boys had done it on a regular basis to sneak butterbeer and sweets in, but Hermione hadn't ever tried it. She was not even certain how wide the passage was, and she certainly had more hip than a teenaged boy, thank you.

This left her with the passage from the Shrieking Shack to the Whomping Willow. Slightly cheered that she wasn't going to be trying to climb up a slide several stories, Hermione cautiously headed for the Shrieking Shack, trying to judge the time by the look of the sky. It was nearing the posted curfew time in Hogsmeade. In just over a day, Harry would be heading to Hogwarts in search of the lost diadem, Hermione and Ron in tow, tripping the alarms here in Hogsmeade and eventually triggering the final battle. Even if her cube lasted a full twenty-four hours, Hermione should miss it—and her younger self—entirely.

Ninety-two people had died in that battle, on both sides. Thirty-six of them had been under the legal adult age of seventeen. Another nine, while _legally_ adult, had not graduated Hogwarts. Yet Hermione had come back a day early to save Severus. Not any of the little thirteen and fourteen-year-old children whose lives had been cut so ridiculously short. Guilt tore at her, and Hermione struggled to remind herself she couldn't save everyone; be everywhere at once. She didn't have the power to bring down Voldemort herself, and she couldn't risk changing the outcome of the battle because she had hidden away someone who was important to her.

She honestly wasn't even sure she could save the man she had come for.

Hermione had decided not to try to heal Severus in the Shrieking Shack after his attack—it was just far too risky. She only had one shot, and she wasn't a registered Healer. Even if she had somehow managed to get ahold of Nagini's anti-venom eleven years after the serpent was dead, Severus had still had a large portion of his throat—including his carotid artery—destroyed. It would be better to take him out of the equation entirely. George had stated in his letter that anything touching her bare skin would be transported with her. Hermione was hoping that included other people, as well.

The Shrieking Shack was still an old shack—small, worn down, and in need of a good cleaning—but it was not nearly as cramped and filthy as she had remembered it. Of course, she had never been in the shack by herself before, and the last time she had stood here, she had been with three other men, one bleeding out on the floor. Hermione eyed the wooden planks under her feet, feeling both sad and determined. She would change it. She wasn't going to let him get that far this time.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione made a broad swipe with her wand and said firmly, _Expecto Patronum!"_ Her otter seemed incongruously happy in the dark shack. It floated and swam about in the air, leaving a wispy trail oddly reminiscent of bubbles in its wake. Hermione found herself smiling, and paused for a moment before twisting her wand to set it with a message.

"I trust where your loyalty lies," she said, "and know the promises you have made. I have important information for you about Harry Potter, and an opportunity that guarantees not only the preferred outcome, but also your personal fortune. I will be watching by the lake should you choose to go for a walk alone this evening."

With a shooing motion of her wand, Hermione directed her Patronus to Severus, and hoped that he was alone wherever he was. She had tried to phrase it so that it could be taken from either side, but she had never been especially good at being cryptic. She knew _he_ would understand. He had seen her Patronus a few times during the summer of her fifth year, and he should recognise who the message was from. Hopefully he would be intrigued enough to risk that he might be walking into an Order trap.

She spent a moment reaching out the hole in the base of the willow tree, trying to locate the correct knot that would still it. At last she was able to make her way out of the hidden passage. She took a circuitous route toward the lake. The air was chilled, and the ground muddy—it clearly had been subject to a good rain lately. When she reached the lake, Hermione lowered herself onto one of the three viewing benches that were near the lake, and waited.

There was a small splash out in the lake, and she wondered idly if it was the squid or just a fish. Probably a fish, she decided, determinedly _not_ thinking about how nervous she was. Several minutes passed, and all was quiet. Hermione tried not to fidget, with minimal success.

Then, about twenty yards away, there he was, appearing as if out of thin air. He was walking slowly, almost leisurely, but Hermione would be willing to bet he was as alert as he had ever been in Voldemort's company.

Hermione took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She had to be careful not to rush this. If she made a wrong move there was no telling what he might do to protect his secrets. She hesitated another second, and then stood, allowing her disillusionment to drop.

He joined her a moment later, his expression unreadable. "You little fool." His voice was quiet, cutting, and—she thought—just bit despairing. It rose a little as he continued, "You idiotic, doxy-brained, _moron_ of a Gryffindor _fool._ You were supposed to be the intelligent one. Why would you waltz up to a known Death Eater?"

Not giving her a chance to respond, he snapped his wand at her and Hermione found herself suddenly stiff as a board as his silent _Petrificus Totalus_ took hold. She teetered for a moment, feeling disappointed. She'd actually spent more time on her appearance than she would have liked to admit for this moment, and really didn't want to land in the mud.

Unfortunately, she went crashing down at the headmaster's feet. He promptly relieved her of her wand, Disillusioned her again, and with a _swish and flick_ had her levitated and floating after him like a school trunk as he resumed his leisurely walk.

In retrospect, Hermione thought wryly, she really should have expected something like this.

He didn't head straight back to the castle, but actually finished his walk, making a long circuit about the Hogwarts grounds before heading back in. By the time he had gotten her into the Headmaster's office she calculated that she had lost about an hour and a half, and she was _freezing._ Dumping her still-petrified body on the floor of the office with a painful _thunk_, he whirled in a dramatic flurry of robes, and studied her.

He withdrew her wand from his robes, frowned at it for a moment, and then said idly, "As a former spy for the Dark Lord on the so-called Order of the Phoenix, I am familiar with Miss Hermione Granger's wand." He arched an eyebrow at her. "This isn't it. Which leaves me with two possibilities: either you are Hermione Granger, and have done an absolutely atrocious job on your disguise charm work and have traded your wand for another, or you are someone else entirely who has done a fairly good job at rendering her likeness. Perhaps to test my loyalty to the Dark Lord. Perhaps you are hoping I will call for him, and upon discovery that you are not who I say you are, I will be punished."

Severus tilted his head at her, considering, and then cast several reversal and disenchantment spells, including a couple Hermione hadn't heard of. The only thing he succeeded in doing was dissolving the enchantment that had kept her hair in relative order. Combined with the mud from her fall, she no doubt looked a fright. _Precisely_ the sort of physical impression she wanted to have on the man she was attempting to convince into marriage, she thought glumly. She knew she wasn't especially beautiful, and that she would hardly be the deciding factor in his decision, but it would have been nice to _pretend_ he could ever find her attractive.

He frowned again, breaking her thoughts, and murmured, "A potion, then...some kind of variant on Polyjuice? The standard version has never lasted so long, and mimics the original more accurately." He glared at her, and said sharply, "I'm going to release you to answer my questions, but bear in mind there are powerful wards on this room, and I have your wand. Move an inch and I will make you regret the day you ever learned how."

Hermione finally felt the stiffness in her body loosen. She started to shift and stretch the stiffness fully out, only to freeze when Severus raised his wand menacingly.

Hermione eyed him carefully, and said, "Would an imposter be able to mimic Hermione Granger's Patronus? Allow me to stretch a little and sit up. Preferably on the chair, and I will tell you everything and anything you wish to know."

He waited for a long moment, and then nodded shortly, but didn't lower his wand.

She sighed a little, studying him. "You look so thin and tired," she whispered, "and old. I'm so used to seeing you at twenty-one. I had forgotten just how much this all had affected you."

He sneered. "I'm not the only one who looks different since last year. The Hermione Granger I remember from less than a year ago was just barely an adult, and Draco described her only two weeks ago as 'skinny enough to make a thestral wince in sympathy.' Yet here you are, looking far too old to be a student and fattened up like a goose."

Hermione felt her mouth drop open in anger. "I am _not_ fat! I'm only a size twelve. That's _hardly_ overweight for a woman!"

He sneered, "Nonetheless, it doesn't leave you with much room to comment on how _my_ appearance is not what you expected."

Hermione took another breath. "You're right. Allow me to start over, please. From the beginning."

"Miss Granger—or whoever you are—I have been waiting for that for the better part of fifteen minutes."

She sat down. "In my fifth year, there was a skirmish at the Department of Mysteries, after which one of the students involved took home some of the debris. It becomes of import a bit later in this story, so bear with me. On May 2, 1998—"

"A day and a half from now," he interjected.

"Yes, then. Please let me tell the whole story and then you can ask any questions you like." Hermione paused, and said again, "Please?" When the man reluctantly nodded, she started again.

"As I was saying, On May 2, 1998, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and I destroy an artifact precious to Vol—the Dark Lord, and sneak into Hogwarts to find and do the same to another. As these objects are the catalyst to his immortality, this displeases him a great deal, as you might imagine." Hermione's tone was wry. "He attacks, and as a result he and Harry face off for the final time on Hogwarts grounds."

Hermione's eyes gleamed, and she continued with satisfaction, "We win. The Dark Lord dies for good. We do, however, accomplish this because of unexpected help from a few quarters, and we still lose many people. One of which is you.

"Headmaster Severus Snape died in the Shrieking Shack by way of snake attack on May 2, 1998. After the battle was ended his—your—name was not only cleared, but lauded as one of the greatest heroes of the war for unparalleled bravery, espionage, and dedication to the protection of the students at Hogwarts. You are awarded an Order of Merlin, First Class, posthumously, and have your very own statue on Hogwarts grounds."

Severus opened his mouth again to protest, looking angry, and Hermione held up her own hand pleadingly. "Please, Severus, let me finish!"

He gave her another hard look, and then said venomously, "I do not care for mockery, nor have I given you leave to address me so informally. Guard your tongue, and recall that I am well aware of Miss Granger's feelings toward the subject of divination. So far I have yet to hear anything from you to convince me that you aren't merely a madwoman!"

Hermione glanced down and said quietly, "You swore an oath to Professor Dumbledore shortly after he touched a cursed object—another of those artifacts I mentioned—that you would end his life to spare Draco Malfoy's soul. You made a similar unbreakable oath to his mother and aunt sometime last summer. You delivered the Sword of Gryffindor to the vicinity of Harry Potter in the Forest of Dean, and watched as he and Ronald Weasley retrieved it together. All this for the memory of a woman who was a childhood friend, the love of your young life whom Vol—the Dark Lord killed."

Severus sat down in the chair opposite from her with a heavy thud, his eyes wide. "How ... how could you know these things?" White knuckled, he raised his wand again. "I can't allow you to have this information. It's too dangerous."

"Wait, Severus, _please_ let me finish! Let me tell you what I know. I can _help_ you. I'm here to _save_ you. Hear me out."

His wand didn't waver. "Finish then, but I doubt it will save you."

"I had to prove that I was worth listening to, didn't I?" replied Hermione irritably. She shook her head. "Anyway, life moved on. We all moved on, or tried our best to. Some of us succeeded better than others," she said softly, remembering George. "A year after the death of You-Know-Who, I completed my final year of Hogwarts and my first year of a Spells Apprenticeship under Professor Flitwick, in tandem. Two years after that I attained my mastery in the field, and was hired as a Head-Researcher by Roth, Savage and Malfoy."

Severus started at the name, and Hermione risked a grin at him. "Imagine my surprise when I was shown my lab space and found a young portrait of _you_ hanging there. You took great pleasure in informing me that unlike _some_ people you were acquainted with, you weren't idle in the summer months, and never had been.

"Sometime after that you gave me leave to 'address you so informally,' and believe it or not, we're good friends at this point."

Severus studied her for a moment and then repeated carefully, "At this point?"

"It's been almost eleven years for me, Severus. I turned thirty two months ago. I'm here using a one-time Portkey made from salvaged debris from the Department of Mysteries."

Severus stood, gripping both his wand and hers and left to stare out his window. "The Shrieking Shack." His knuckles whitened, and then relaxed a little again. "I hate that place. I nearly died there when I was sixteen, I was humiliated there at the hands of third-years and now you say that I _will_ die there tomorrow."

Hermione glanced down at the desk between them, uncertain how to respond.

Severus turned back and glanced at Professor Dumbledore's portrait on the wall, where the man still sat, sleeping. "I've given everything for this war, and now I only have a day to live. Where is the justice in that? Where is the redemption and your so-called power of love conquering the dark? Why can't it ever be me that gets to win?" He asked the portrait bitterly. He turned back to her. "If I run I'll only be caught, and I doubt my death would be any easier than what you describe."

He sat back down heavily in his chair, and gave her a brooding look. "Who will protect the children once I'm killed?"

Hermione gave him a sad smile. "That actually brings me to the heart of why I'm here. This last September, exactly nine students were enrolled at Hogwarts."

"Nine?" Severus seemed to struggle to process the change of subject. "That's...that's unheard of! The last time the first year class was so small was..."

"Some six or seven hundred years ago. The Ministry, in its infinite wisdom, has seen fit to reinstate some of the archaic laws made from that time period in response."

It took him a minute, and then he understood. "They're enforcing some kind of marriage or procreation law."

"Indeed."

"You're saying no one protects the children. There is a slaughter. What does any of this have to do with me? Shouldn't you be handing out buttons or something?" He waved a hand at his window. "Or out there, evacuating people so they don't get caught up in this?"

"Minerva tried to evacuate, when it happened," Hermione snapped, "the little idiots came back to fight anyway. I can't do anything about that—I can't save them. What I can do..." Hermione felt her heartbeat increase as her voice trailed off, and her tongue felt heavy.

She had finally gotten to the point, and now she wondered if it wouldn't have been better to jump into the war again and just die after all. Keeping her eyes locked on the desk in front of her, she said quickly, "I would like to manipulate events so that Harry still gets the information and proof he needs to win the war and exonerate you, whilst removing you from the battle entirely. I want to bring you forward when my Portkey runs out, to a world where you can not only live, but live as a hero, with accolades and recognition.

"You would no doubt still be welcome at RS&amp;M as a Head-Researcher, and there is also an opportunity for a side project in one of the basement labs that has the potential to make you a millionaire-depending on how long this idiocy with the Ministry lasts. The _only_ thing I want in return is..." Hermione's voice abruptly trailed off and died. Feeling a little sick, she tried to push her condition out, and found she couldn't. Panicking slightly, she glanced up at the man across the desk from her.

Severus looked impassive. "There's always something, isn't there? Always a catch. Spit it out, woman, and I'll decide whether or not it's worth bothering to live for."

Hermione dropped her eyes back to the desk and worked her mouth, finally generating some moisture. Finally, she managed to squeak out, "What I want in return, Severus Snape, is for you to marry me."

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_A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Please review, it means so much to me!_


	5. V: The Importance of Being Earnest

**Summary:** Hermione receives a letter from the Ministry informing her of a bit of new legislation, and attempts to deal with it in a unique way. My nod to the genre of Marriage Law Cliche fics, originally written for Dragoon 811 for the SSHG GiftFest 2014.

**Disclaimer:** All recognizable characters and fictional places do not belong to me; I am merely borrowing them for playtime before (respectfully) putting them back. Thank you, JKR, for allowing such things to happen.

**Pairings/Main Characters** Hermione Granger and Severus Snape. Minor appearances by Percy Weasley, Draco Malfoy, George Weasley, Harry Potter and OFCs: Minister Behrends and Serena Savage.

**Warnings:** This story is rated NC-17/MA, and it is _not_ suitable for children under age 18. It is Alternate Universe, and includes strong language, lemons (graphic sex), violence, mention of violence and mention of character death.

**Thank You:** To the wonderful ladies who worked with me on this fic: Savva, Shinigamioni, and Stgulik. You three are brilliant, and it was a blessing to have you on my team. I have tried (and failed) to come up with a suitable Super Hero Team beginning with S that isn't already trademarked. Further thanks to BSC_AG for a second pair of eyes, and AdelaideArcher, for Brit Picking. :-)

**Dedication:** This fic was written for my very good friend, Dragoon811, who has always encouraged me to write, and was kind enough not to be annoyed that I completely ignored her prompts. You're a doll!

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**HAPPILY EVER AFTER THE FACT**  
**By: TycheSong**

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**V: The Importance of Being Earnest**

_April, 1998_

There was a long silence, and when Hermione peeked up from under her lashes, Severus was still staring at her, looking a little bit like someone had hit him with a _Confundus._ Tentative, Hermione prodded. "Severus?"

He shook his head dazedly. "I'm sorry..._what?_ Did I really just hear you ask me to...to _marry_ you?" His tone was incredulous, and he shook his head again. "Shite. I've been poisoned by one of those idiotic Weasley daydream products. I refuse to believe that _Hermione Granger_ has travelled back in time because the world thinks I'm some kind of hero, and she wants to marry me. The entire premise is a farce."

Hermione groaned and dropped her forehead to her arms on top of the desk. It _was_ ridiculous, she had known he would think so. His portrait had even warned her that convincing him would be difficult. The look in the portrait's eyes had held the barest hint of longing, though...she _knew_ he had wanted it. Severus had wanted to live; he had wanted to breathe and walk and drink his tea. He had wanted to be with _her._ The man in front of her didn't want these things, but he could. His portrait had believed it enough to think it was worth the loss of himself to try.

A portrait will not animate unless its subject is dead, after all. If Hermione's quest to bring Severus back to the present day and to life was successful, she was, in essence, killing the portrait that had become her closest friend. The thought made her lift her head angrily and glare at the man across from her. "This is your chance—the only chance you're going to get—to cheat death and enjoy the spoils that you've given up so much for."

His lip curled in a sneer. "Alright, I'll play this game. Why would you decide to come after me? It's been twelve years according to you. Why now? Is it merely a nice collision of my being useful to you and a lovely opportunity to show the world what a selfless heroine you are? Sacrificing yourself in marriage to bring back a hero that everyone honestly liked better dead?" His eyes gleamed maliciously. "Did Weasley turn you down?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, exasperated. "I didn't realise this sort of trip was possible until the last forty-eight hours. I told you, the Portkey was given to me by a friend. Also, I realise it's difficult for you to imagine, but I'm not and never have been pining for Ron Weasley. He married years ago. They have three children. I'm godmother to their eldest and the little monster detests me. To be honest, the feeling is mutual. And before you ask, no, I'm not sacrificing some dramatic love affair with Harry, either."

Severus' eyes sharpened. "I would imagine that is because Potter is dead?"

Hermione felt her jaw drop. "Dead? Good heavens, is that _really_ the only circumstance you can imagine me not in love with Harry? No, he's not dead, I'm just not interested. Neither is he!" She gave him a sour look.

His expression closed off, and he stood, his wand once more pointing at her. "You have just given me no doubt of your duplicity. You are not Hermione Granger—certainly not a Hermione Granger from the future. I'm afraid your story simply has too many holes in it. Hermione Granger's wand is vine, I will never be called a hero by the Order of the Phoenix, and Miss Granger would certainly not come tromping back in time to save my skin—much less ask me to marry her—when she could save Harry Potter's instead. Make no mistake—Harry Potter will not outlive this war."

His voice became calculating as he studied her. "What I don't understand is why you have orchestrated such an elaborate ruse. What purpose could you possibly have coming to me in this guise with such a wild story? _That's_ the real question here."

Hermione gaped, and then groaned in realisation. How could she have been stupid enough to forget? Severus believed right up to his death that Harry had to die in order for Voldemort to be defeated. Dumbledore had told him so, and with his dying thoughts he had explained his knowledge to Harry, as well as his allegiances. If Voldemort won, of course it would be because Harry Potter was killed. Either way, Severus' belief that Harry couldn't outlive the war was a valid one.

Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath; when she opened them, Severus' long blackthorn wand was still trained directly between her eyes. "I swear, I am who I say. Question me under a truth potion if you like, even _Veritaserum._"

His lips twisted wryly, "Am I to simply trust that you didn't take the antidote before your arrival?"

"Legilimency, then. Surely you can trust that you are the most skilled Legilimens alive."

He waited a beat and then said softly, "I would never presume that I am a better Legilimens than the Dark Lord."

Hermione felt like banging her head on the desk. "Would you believe that you are a better Legilimens than I am an Occlumens? What do you have to lose by looking?"

His response was to narrow his eyes and whisper, _"Legilimens."_

Hermione whimpered in pain as his mind ripped open her memories the way a first year might rip open his Christmas gifts. He did not attempt to be gentle, and she could tell that she would have a rather monstrous headache by the time he was finished.

To her consternation, he skipped her more recent memories entirely, diving deeply into her past. He sought out vague, almost mundane things. Moments at home with her family, at school during her first few years and at Grimmauld Place during her fifth year were all subject to his scrutiny as if they were the most important memories she possessed. He was verifying her identity. He was picking memories of unremarkable nature from a variety of locations that only Hermione Granger could collect in their entirety. An imposter would spend more time focused on building false memories of major events, believing that Severus would view those first.

He then skipped ahead to similar mundane memories of her present. He watched her researching at RS&amp;M, making tea, and numerous interactions with his portrait. The portrait itself seemed to startle him at first. The almost imperceptible jolt of his mind within hers reminded Hermione of her own reaction to the wanted poster in the village. Once he was past his initial surprise, he continued to rifle through various day-to-day things she did, pushing away the important memories she impatiently tried to show him.

He seemed in absolutely no hurry at all, and even pulled up a memory of her masturbating, his mental presence slightly gleeful. He watched it slowly, studying her actions and her body in detail, lingering over it like a thirteen-year-old in possession of his first porn mag. The memory itself heated her skin and set it tingling, and Hermione found it difficult not to squirm with both embarrassment and remembered lust in her seat after a bit.

Her current train of thought diverted him, and after ascertaining that she _was_ getting aroused by her memory, he replayed it again. Clearly the bastard was enjoying himself immensely. Only when he seemed to satisfy his curiosity on that front—thoroughly!—did he finally look at what she _wanted_ to show him. If she was a bit breathless and just the tiniest bit disappointed that he had pushed no further...well, hopefully that was something he wasn't paying attention to while rummaging through her secrets.

He watched the Battle of Hogwarts unflinchingly as various people fell around them, wounded or dead. He noted his own attack and memory haemorrhage, and how she had collected the leaked memories. He watched himself die, and then he replayed the whole scene again, apparently morbidly fascinated by the sight.

Then she showed him the posthumous accolades, the statue of him at Hogwarts, and his Order of Merlin. Minerva, as Headmistress of Hogwarts, had accepted it on his behalf to hang in the Headmaster's office, just under his portrait there. Hermione continued to press forward, showing him the recent law that had passed, her proposition to George, and the gift he had left behind for her. She showed him that last conversation with his portrait, where he had at first argued that he was hardly the worthiest of causes, then that he wouldn't believe her, before finally admitting that he would not mind so very much the chance to live again.

Severus' withdrawal from her mind was far more careful than his entry. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut as a massive migraine seemed to explode. Tears leaked down her face. "Well? Do you believe me now?" she whispered.

"Yes." It was admitted softly, wonderingly, and she cracked her eyelids briefly to see him looking at her searchingly. He glanced about at the myriad of curiously watching portraits of the previous Hogwarts Headmasters and said to them very firmly, "As current Headmaster of Hogwarts, I bind you to silence on this matter. _No one_ can know of Miss Granger's presence here this evening."

Silent nods and soft spoken acquiesces met his demand, and a couple of moments later, he was handing her a potion, his fingertips brushing hers. The contact jolted through her, the warmth of his fingertips shocking her as she was reminded that he was _alive._ This wasn't a mere representation of him, an echo of his personality hung on her wall. Severus Snape was standing in front of her. He was older than she had remembered, and harsher, but so _alive_ and multi-dimensional that it was difficult not to keep her emotions in check.

Hermione gratefully drank the proffered headache potion, wondering if it was worth her pride to lick the inside of the bottle. Once her head cleared, she gave him a scathing look. "I don't think you needed to spend _quite_ so much time watching me naked, Severus Snape."

The man had the gall to leer at her. "If things go according to _your_ plan, it's nothing I won't get to see and study in great detail anyway." His expression slipped a little, and he asked seriously, "You're feeling better?"

"Yes, much. What makes you think I'm not simply offering a marriage of convenience in order to bypass the law?" Hermione asked. "It's what I offered George."

"Two reasons. First, because I won't agree otherwise. If I'm going to be married, I shall damn well take what perks that entails."

"I suppose survival, hero status, an Order of Merlin, all that isn't enough for you?"

"Don't pretend by giving them to me, you're being magnanimous. You're only giving me the chance to enjoy what I should have always been allowed to enjoy." His voice was mild.

"Secondly," he continued, "we're going to share a bed because _you_ want us to." He gave her a smug look. "You chose me. You came back in time and could have saved anyone, but you picked me in order to marry you. Deny it all you like, but you _care._ Don't think I didn't notice how you breathed my name whilst you fingered yourself." His eyes glittered, and Hermione felt her cheeks burn. It was an effort to continue to hold his gaze. She really hadn't meant for him to know about that.

The corners of his mouth curled slightly, and his dark eyes were heated as he continued, "You're enamoured of a portrait, and whilst that might typically be a bad sign, it's _my_ portrait, and I'd be a fool to marry you and _not_ take advantage of that."

Relief shuddered through Hermione—a perceptible jolt that she couldn't contain. "You agree, then? You'll marry me in exchange for your life?"

"If you can present me with a convincing plan that won't change the outcome of the battle..." Severus hesitated, his hair swinging forward to shield his face. "Guarantee that you're not flattening the proverbial butterfly in doing this, then yes, I agree."

"Alright, then." Hermione swallowed. She sat up a bit straighter in her chair. "So, first I need you to remove a specific set of memories and bottle them for Harry. They are the same ones he saw in my timeline when you died, and he will be using them to not only get the information he needs to defeat Vo—the Dark Lord, but they will also convince him what side you are on. His testimony is what most of your defence is based on."

Severus sneered. "Am I to just hand them to Potter, or do they need to be gained through some act of heroism, like the sword?"

"Neither," Hermione responded crossly. "We're giving those to a house-elf, who is going to deliver them with a message that they were entrusted into her care by the Headmaster. Since Professor Dumbledore had a pensieve that Harry has used before..."

"You think he'll jump to the conclusion that they were left for him by Albus."

"Exactly. The trouble is making sure they get to him at exactly the right time. I think it's best if you spoke to Minerva, too. Here's what I have in mind." Hermione quickly outlined her plan, watching as his face grew thunderous, and then pensive.

"She isn't going to believe me," he said quietly. "Things have gone too far for that."

"She doesn't really need to," Hermione countered. "The point is, after all this is over, and your actions come to light, she is going to remember that you tried to tell her before you left. It's another piece of the puzzle that will make your posthumous trial go more smoothly. It will also prepare her to take charge as the Headmistress ahead of time; she won't be worried about you and can focus on the Carrows."

Severus' lips thinned. "What of my memories?"

Hermione pursed her own lips. "What of them?"

"When do I get them back? Surely you don't believe I'd entrust something like that to Potter for the rest of eternity when I am, after all, alive."

Hermione stood, and paced to the large window overlooking the castle grounds, uncertain how to proceed delicately. "A great deal of my research at RS&amp;M has to do with memories and memory charms. Sort of a personal interest in particular of mine. You've been helping me a little, with the theory."

"Hermione," he growled out warningly. "Get to the point!"

She whirled to look at him again. "What are Roxanne Moneta's three laws of Mnemosyne Theory?"

Severus crossed his arms and responded shortly, "All memories are entropic. All memories are corruptible by suggestion or perception. A person viewing his own memories outside himself will always be a tainted source of reason, since he will always relieve his own emotions as well as the view."

"I thought for a long time that the memories you haemorrhaged were almost crystalline in clarity, and seemingly chosen specifically to give Harry all the information he needed to win. Which is odd, don't you think, since many of those memories should have faded into almost vague recollections or mere conversations by then. Odder still, because the act of haemorrhage is not controllable. I asked your portrait about it once; if you had created the memories specifically for Harry to discover in some way."

Severus also stood, his expression furious, and Hermione cut him off with a sharp movement of her hand. "Your portrait told me that they were real, kept clear because of how often you put them in a pensieve to view instead of just letting them fade. You relived them over and over again, compounding your own feelings of loss, childhood infatuation, and guilt until it became an obsession. You didn't let them fade, let yourself heal—you've been _torturing_ yourself with your own memories in order to keep your motivation alive in this war. I doubt I even need to tell you which ones to bottle for Harry—they haemorrhaged from you at your death because of how many times you've already ripped them out for viewing and then stuffed them back in."

"How is any of that your business, Miss Granger?" His voice was deadly quiet, seething in anger.

Hermione shook her head sadly, "I'm just...not so sure it's a good idea for you to get them back. You need to let yourself heal. You can't possibly move on with your life and be happy if you keep doing that."

He slammed a hand down on the desk. "Luckily for me, that isn't your decision to make. I've done what I've had to do to get through this bloody war. There are only so many times I could force myself to return to a known madman and uncertain torture without proper motivation. What I do with _my_ memories and _my_ life should be _my_ choice."

"It's funny," Hermione said bitterly, "that's precisely the same thing I said to the Minister of Magic regarding the marriage law." She sighed. "I don't know where they are in my present, Severus. I doubt Harry has them. They're probably tucked away in an evidence locker somewhere in the Ministry." She sighed and capitulated, "I'll help you get them back, if you truly wish it. I promise."

Hermione gingerly touched her hair and looked at her muddied clothes with distaste. "We have somewhere between nineteen and twenty-two hours left before my Portkey will activate. May I please take a bath, and then we can plan out the rest?"

Severus studied her for a moment, and then solemnly handed her back her wand. "You can use my bathroom."

He tilted his head in a gesture for her to follow, and then asked curiously as they walked, "What did happen to your other wand?"

"It was taken by a Snatcher and lost somewhere at Malfoy Manor when Harry, Ron and I were taken there."

He nodded, and then looked at her keenly. "I had thought some of that encounter exaggerated. Did you really make off with Bellatrix Lestrange's wand?"

Hermione grinned. "I'll do you one better than that. Right now, out there somewhere," she waved a hand toward the outside wall that they were walking past, "We're planning a successful break in to her Gringott's vault."

His eyebrows climbed. "You manage to break into her Gringott's vault?"

"Oh, sure." She couldn't help but brag a little. "And we leave on the back of a dragon." She grimaced. "You wouldn't _believe_ what it takes to try to open your own vault with the goblins after a stunt like that."

He gave her sideways glance, and then opened the door to a bathroom that was—barely—smaller than the Prefect's bath, and gestured her in.

"Wow...this job does come with some perks, doesn't it?"

He gave her a small, wicked smile, and it sent an unexpected shiver of arousal through her. "Wait until you see the bed."

She was suddenly very aware of his taller frame and dark eyes. Trying not to be horribly obvious, Hermione stammered, "Suitably impressive, I imagine."

"Indeed." He drifted past her to the huge, sunken tub and started turning on various taps, filling the tub with steaming water and lemongrass scented foam.

"I—I've got it from here," she said. "I'll be out in perhaps an hour."

His eyes gleamed in amusement, and he crossed his arms. "Technically, you're still my prisoner," he teased. "I really shouldn't take my eyes off you."

Hermione narrowed hers. "Invalid argument. You gave me my wand back, which is an unspoken declaration that I no longer hold that status."

"You're also my fiancée. Shouldn't that give me the right to enjoy the view?"

"Pretty sure you already took advantage of that right, _before_ you were my fiancé. So in my estimation, you owe me one."

"If I've already seen it all, and will again, what's the harm in letting me watch now? Besides, I'm fairly certain that spouses don't owe each other viewing privileges."

"Severus..." her voice was dangerous.

"Hermione..." he rejoined, his voice low and cajoling. "I've spent the last year and longer living in utter hell with no hope at all of any sort of pleasant ending. Can you really blame me when a woman shows up out of nowhere, promises me survival, wealth, recognition and herself and then asks to frolic about in my bath? I'm _still_ not entirely convinced that I haven't been slipped one of the Weasley twins' products."

"Funny you say that, since _I'm_ the one currently on a Weasley product." Hermione muttered under her breath. She glanced at the man in front of her, trying to decide what to do. On the one hand, the idea of taking a bath in front of him felt a little awkward—she had never done as much even with his portrait, and he looked every inch her Potions professor now. On the other hand, this was Severus. He wasn't _her_ Severus yet, but he had agreed to come with her, to marry her. The thought of bathing in front of him, teasing him just a little, made her feel extremely wicked, and it was tempting.

He was a virgin, too. Hermione wasn't entirely certain what he had done in the past, but his portrait had been clear on the point that he hadn't ever gone that far before. It was entirely possible that a woman had never undressed in front of him willingly before—she might be the first. In fact, Hermione was willing to bet that was, indeed the case. She was an utter _mess,_ the very last thing from sexy, and yet he was still incredibly focused on the idea. The thought of being first for him in most things sexual was strangely intoxicating, and gave her a surge of feminine intrigue and power.

Biting her lip, Hermione met his eyes with hers, and slowly reached for the clasp on her cloak. His eyes dropped to her fingers, fixated. Once it fell to the floor, she said softly, "If you are determined to stay, you may. On one condition."

Severus' gaze returned to hers, and his expression turned sulky. "There's _always_ a condition, isn't there?"

"If you're going to stay, then you have to join me."

His eyes went wide, and his jaw slackened. "Oh, fuck," he whispered. "I _am_ dreaming." Nonetheless, his fingers rose to his throat and began unbuttoning his coat.

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_A/N: Thank you all so very much for reading-I really appreciate it, and the reviews you leave. More than you know! They make and brighten my life in ways that I cannot completely articulate. To the vast majority of you, who are wonderful (and polite) even when disagreeing with me, you are absolute treasures. I hope you know how happy I am to have made your acquaintance._

_That said, I would like to remind my readers: if you do not sign in, I cannot respond. Perhaps this is on purpose, and those with critisims are afraid I will respond in kind? (Shame on them for only being brave enough to criticize when anonymous). I have always been unfailingly polite to my reviewers, even the ones who are not polite to me. If you have constructive criticism, I welcome it, and any discussion that may follow. I enjoy growing as a writer. If you are questioning my plot choices or attacking my story because you're just in that kind of mood, I would like the chance to explain my reasoning._

_It is typically my policy to never respond to unsigned reviews in the author notes, but this last chapter brought a couple a feel I cannot let pass without response. I apologise for what is an unusually long author note from me as I do so._

_To the unsigned anon guest who got snippy because of my use of the Virgin!Snape plot device: As I have posted at the top of every single chapter of this story, Happily Ever After the Fact was written during a gift exchange for Dragoon811, who is a dear friend. She enjoys that particular plot device, and we had discussed in the past how much fun it would be to see a story using as many SS/HG cliches as possible (such as Marriage Law, Time Travel, Portrait!Snape, Virgin!Snape...etc.) That's why. Because I wanted to, and because it was a gift for someone I knew would enjoy it._

_To the unsigned guest identifying as "Jess": A couple things need to be addressed about your review. While I'm tempted to write you off as a common reviewing troll, I feel the issue you have touched on is an important one, and I'm not afraid to make my stance on it very, very clear. First of all: This is a Harry Potter fanfiction. Which means it is set in England. In England, size "12" is about the American equivalent of size 8. Which is NOT fat. At all. Furthermore, if I had not done the research and Hermione was the American size "12" she would STILL not be fat. As for you being unable to fathom Hermione getting that big, then you have a very limited imagination. I know many women-especially at thirty with desk jobs-who are between size 12-18 who were extremely fit when they were teenagers. I am one of them. I still do not consider myself "rather large" for the record. Lastly, shame on you for body shaming ANY woman, even a fictional characterization of a fictional character. So it doesn't fit with your head-canon? That's fine. You are more than welcome to tell me you don't see Hermione (an average sized girl, according to book canon) gaining weight once she is no longer starving and hasn't been running up and down Hogwarts' steps everyday in over ten years. Just as it's my right to disagree with that assessment. You are not welcome to be judgmental about size 12. In _any _country._

_To the rest of my reviewers, please excuse my harsh words. Most of you know I am typically very polite. This was an issue I feel very strongly about. I hope this note has not soured the story for you, and you continue to enjoy Happily Ever After the Fact._


	6. VI: Sex and Marriage

**Summary:** Hermione receives a letter from the Ministry informing her of a bit of new legislation, and attempts to deal with it in a unique way. My nod to the genre of Marriage Law Cliche fics, originally written for Dragoon 811 for the SSHG GiftFest 2014.

**Disclaimer:** All recognizable characters and fictional places do not belong to me; I am merely borrowing them for playtime before (respectfully) putting them back. Thank you, JKR, for allowing such things to happen.

**Pairings/Main Characters** Hermione Granger and Severus Snape. Minor appearances by Percy Weasley, Draco Malfoy, George Weasley, Harry Potter and OFCs: Minister Behrends and Serena Savage.

**Warnings:** This story is rated NC-17/MA, and it is _not_ suitable for children under age 18. It is Alternate Universe, and includes strong language, lemons (graphic sex), violence, mention of violence and mention of character death.

**Thank You:** To the wonderful ladies who worked with me on this fic: Savva, Shinigamioni, and Stgulik. You three are brilliant, and it was a blessing to have you on my team. I have tried (and failed) to come up with a suitable Super Hero Team beginning with S that isn't already trademarked. Further thanks to BSC_AG for a second pair of eyes, and AdelaideArcher, for Brit Picking. :-)

**Dedication:** This fic was written for my very good friend, Dragoon811, who has always encouraged me to write, and was kind enough not to be annoyed that I completely ignored her prompts. You're a doll!

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**HAPPILY EVER AFTER THE FACT**  
**By: TycheSong**

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**VI: Sex and Marriage**

_April 1998_

The sight of Severus Snape unbuttoning his frock coat was so arresting that Hermione forgot that she was supposed to be undressing as well. His fingers halted, gripping the edges of his half-undone coat as he glared at her suspiciously.

"Were you mocking me, or did you not believe that I would call your bluff?"

Embarrassed, Hermione shook her head. "No, neither. I just...I was distracted, I suppose. You ... you've been my friend for years, and before that my professor. I swear I would never mock you—not like that. I'll go first if you like," she offered, and toed off her shoes, reaching for the laces on her robes. The design of her bodice was a wide sideways V, slowing her progress as she elected to remove the cords from their loopholes entirely rather than merely loosening them.

His eyes followed her fingers, seemingly mesmerized as the thick fabric gave way. A small twist of a button undid the catch on the lower half of her robes, and the entire garment fell to join her cloak and shoes on the bathroom floor. Standing in only her lacy undergarments, Hermione felt goosebumps prickle her arms and legs despite the steam rising off the bath.

His eyes were heated, yet still very solemn as he studied her, his eyes drifting over her body to linger in over her breasts, the curve of her stomach and hips. Hermione struggled not to squirm under his gaze, holding herself proudly. When his eyes rose to meet hers again they were hot; he had clearly found little, if anything wanting. Hermione felt herself let out a heavy breath she hadn't known she had been holding.

"A friend told me once that a girl only wears lacy knickers if she hopes someone will see them," he said casually, apparently pleased by the thought that she might have chosen her matching ice-blue set for his benefit. Then he once again took in the tangled, muddied mess that was her hair, and his lips twitched in amusement.

She grimaced in response and said aloud, " I did originally want a bath to get _clean_ you know." Sulkily, she added, "It looked fine before you petrified me into the mud."

He nodded and moved closer to her, his gaze scorching. "You were nervous about what I would think. You needn't have been. You are...you look..." he fumbled and dipped his head forward again to shield his face with his hair.

"I look older and less fit than I used to, and have clearly been through a war," Hermione replied.

His head lifted, his expression surprised. "You look lovely...wonderfully soft. You look like an _adult,_ and for that I am glad. I would not be entertaining this idea at all if you still looked like my student, lacy knickers or not." He hesitated, red colouring his cheeks. His fingers worried the edges of his partially undone coat again. "I do not look much like my portrait from seventeen years ago."

"Severus," Hermione said, drawing his name out slowly, "the last time I was interested in a man because of appearance alone, I was barely thirteen years old. I learned that lesson very quickly." She stepped forward. "Will you allow me?"

He swallowed heavily, his eyes dipping down to her breasts again, and nodded slightly.

Unable to keep her fingers from trembling slightly, Hermione gently brushed his hands away from his coat and methodically unbuttoned his jacket. "You," she murmured, "have the sexiest brain I have ever encountered. You're extremely intuitive and inventive, too. I'm rather looking forward to exploring that." She grinned up at him, enjoying the shocked but hungry look on his face. When she was done she carefully tugged it from his shoulders, leaving him in a plain white dress shirt and trousers.

His expression seemed to be an odd mixture of uneasiness and eagerness as she reached for the buttons on his shirt and started to undo those as well. Her breath hitched as his fair skin became visible, and the air around her felt electrically charged.

"Has it been a very long time for you?" she asked quietly, though she already knew the answer.

He let out a shaky breath and gave her a sideways glance. "Yes. A relationship with a Death Eater is not the safest position for a woman to find herself in." His hands lifted slightly, as if he planned to touch her, than his fingers curled into fists and dropped back down to his sides.

She pretended not to notice, nodded thoughtfully instead. "You've had other things on your mind, as well." She removed his shirt from his frame, and took her first look at his bare chest. He hunched before catching himself and straightening. He was thin for a man of his size, though not grotesquely so. The muscle across his chest and shoulders was lean, his nipples small. An old scar slanted across the right side of his ribcage, the only blemish he had on otherwise pale, smooth skin.

There was a clear bulge in his trousers and Hermione smiled; the sight bolstered her confidence and pride in a primal way that defied words. He had certainly seemed eager to see her unclothed, and he had been the one to insist that sex be a part of their marriage, but she still found his visible desire reassuring. He made her feel indescribably sexy.

Suddenly needing to make him feel the same, Hermione stroked her fingertips down the centre of his chest gently; he shuddered slightly. "I'm not disappointed by what's in front of me, Severus. Believe me or not, but I find you both horribly sexy and interesting." Her nails raked down his chest again, tickling his skin at the edge of his pants. "I'm looking forward to that bed of yours with...great anticipation."

To her delight, his head swivelled toward the door of what was undoubtedly his bedchambers, apparently ready to abandon the idea of the bathtub altogether.

Hermione laughed lightly. "Not yet. I'm a mess. It's your fault, so now you have to wait. I'm going to need shampoo, conditioner and soap."

He blinked and his eyes darted to a low shelf near the rim of the bath clustered with several bottles. Hermione smiled demurely in thanks and headed toward the bath, stripping off her undergarments as she went. She lowered herself into the huge tub with a happy sigh, flipping off the taps as she half swam, half bounced across the bottom of the tub toward the shelves. When she turned to look back at Severus, he was still standing where she had left him, frozen, staring at her.

She watched Severus study the picture she made, naked and surrounded by foam in his bathtub, and then suddenly, she saw him believe. A wondering look filled his eyes, and several quick motions later he, too, was naked. He stalked toward the tub with an almost predatory expression, and Hermione had a brief glimpse of long pale legs and his jutting cock before he entered the bath.

Hermione smiled and worked shampoo into a lather, deliberately lifting her arms just high enough to raise her breasts through the frothy water in what she hoped was a teasing peep-show with the bubbles. He watched them with avid interest, looking very much like he wanted to pounce.

"You may help me with the soap," Hermione offered wickedly, quirking an eyebrow at him.

She was rewarded with a familiar crooked smile, and the sight of it sent a jolt of desire through her and momentarily stole her breath. He was so _alive_ it made her ache. She found herself grinning back as she finished, twisting her hair up on top of her head and securing it with her wand.

He drifted closer to her, eyeing her improvised hair ornament as he did so. "That's dangerous," he groused, "you're going to kill us both doing that."

"There wasn't a hair clip for me to use," she responded primly and handed him the bar of soap she had found. "I'm fairly certain you have other things to think about."

Another slow smirk crossed his face as he took the soap and seemed to consider how he wanted to start. His touch was tentative at first, then firmer as he gained more confidence. He ran slick and sudsy hands over her shoulders, stroking her skin repeatedly and glancing at her from under his lashes as if to gauge her reaction. His hands ran down her arms, carefully soaped each finger, and then back up again. When he realised she wasn't going to protest, he moved to soap her breasts. He palmed them carefully, lifting them entirely above the water to inspect them, pushing them together and rubbing the nipples gently.

They hardened quickly under his ministrations, sensitising and making her shiver slightly. He returned his attention to her breasts, rubbing, soaping and rinsing them repeatedly with a murmured, "Must make sure they're clean, after all. Wouldn't do to have dirty tits." He punctuated his comment with an absolutely _filthy_ laugh that ended in a strangled moan when her fingers came up under the water to cradle his balls. She rolled them softly, rubbing the base of his cock with her thumb. He gave her a wild look, his grip on her breasts tightening in involuntary reaction. The motion had her gasping as the pressure seemed to directly correlate to the pressure between her thighs. The ache between them intensified and she tightened her own grip on his cock in response.

His eyes widened as he lowered his head to hers. Their noses bumped and then crashed again as they both tilted their heads the same direction for another attempt. Hermione laughed softly, and a determined look settled on his features. Severus' hands abandoned her breasts and came up to firmly cup her cheeks and tilt her head the direction he wanted it, and then he kissed her.

However inexperienced Severus Snape was, he certainly did know how to kiss, Hermione noted hazily as she rubbed herself instinctively against his body. He groaned and suddenly wrapped both arms around her, pulling her naked body flush against his. His own hips jerked minutely, rubbing his cock against her stomach as he quite literally kissed the breath out of her.

His hands had taken to discovering every inch of her body that he could comfortably reach. Her back was stroked, her bum squeezed, the cleft between her cheeks explored with long nimble fingers. He ran his hands over her waist, lingered across her ribs and finally returned to her breasts. He squeezed and kneaded them for several long minutes, fingering and pinching her nipples in turn until they were just barely on the pleasurable side of sore.

Clearly he was a breast man, and approved of hers, Hermione thought happily. Attempting to somehow get closer, she rose up on her tiptoes in the water, tangling a hand in his hair. The other hand wrapped around his cock, stroking it firmly. The tendons in his neck tightened as his head tilted back, and the groan that ripped free as he came was a helplessly loud and throaty sound. It echoed in the large bathroom and seemed to reverberate in every cell of Hermione's body.

He panted for a moment, and then his eyes locked with hers. "I'm going to bloody well fuck you right through my mattress." He said it matter-of-factly, his voice a low growl. "I'm going to take you to my bed, taste every inch of you, and as soon as I can feel my cock again, I'm going to find out exactly how to make you groan my name like you did in your memory. No, I'm going to make you _scream_ it."

Her skin on fire and her cunt aching, Hermione nodded fervently and muttered, "I can hardly wait." Hurriedly lifting herself from the bath, she wrapped one of the large towels around herself, and waited as he emerged as well.

He dried himself briskly, his towel only allowing her teasing glimpses of his body. His right calf had a rather spectacular scar, she saw. It was startling at first, until she remembered Fluffy, from her first year. Harry had mentioned that he had tangled with the Cerberus, but Hermione hadn't realised just how badly the Professor had actually been injured. Despite the damaged tissue, he had surprisingly muscular legs. _A testament to the hundreds of stairs in Hogwarts and all the swooping about he does,_ she thought with a grin.

"You're staring," he said with a smirk.

"I'm your fiancée," Hermione said lightly, mimicking his earlier words. "I like to enjoy views, too."

He held her gaze for another long, searching moment, and then he dropped the towel to the floor. He was not so very far off from what she had imagined over the years. His dark eyes and hair were startling against the backdrop of his fair skin. He reminded her of a greyhound, all long limbs, narrow hips and quivering slightly with tension.

Hermione kissed him again, then whispered, "Show me your bed, Severus Snape, and the mattress you intend to fuck me through."

He took her hand and led her through a far door. Hermione had a brief glimpse of high, arched windows, heavy furnishings and bookcases before she was led through yet another door, into his bedroom.

Like his bathroom and what little she had seen of the sitting room, the bedroom was opulent in the extreme. The whole room seemed to be comprised of beautiful antique furniture and heavy velvets. It was the sort of room one might expect the Queen to sleep in, not a schoolmaster.

The bed was as impressive as he had hinted, and Hermione momentarily forgot her impatience as she stared. It was raised on a three-stair pedestal at the far end of the room and dominantly massive. The sheets probably had to be spelled or specially made in order to fit, she decided. It was easily about three times the width of her bed at home, the four poster frame ornately carved with various fanciful animals, trees, and woodland flowers. Closer inspection revealed the detail work to be stunningly intricate, and also included multiple skillfully placed ward runes. There were protection wards, a silencing ward, temperature adjusting wards...it was honestly the most magnificent bed Hermione had ever seen.

"Amazing," she whispered, tracing a carving of a unicorn. "This is...stunning, Severus. I can _feel_ the history in this."

He smiled again, pleased to show off. "It was originally Helga Hufflepuff's bed, commissioned not long after Hogwarts was built. According to the Hogwarts records, it's made from wood grown inside the Forbidden Forest and was created as the _magnum opus_ of a master woodworker named Daphne Fairchild. Before the bed, she had specialised in wands and staves; the Ollivander line actually claim she's an ancestor of theirs. It's been speculated that she might have used magical cores in the posts of the bed, but of course, we'll never know for sure unless someone decides to take it apart to look."

"Thereby destroying it. What a fascinating piece of history to have survived all these years."

"Most of the furnishings that we have from the Founders' era were Hufflepuff's—she was much better at using preserving charms than her colleagues, it seems." He frowned. "It is unfortunate we can't take it, too. I've grown rather fond of it this last school year."

"I imagine so," she laughed. "The school might notice it missing, however." She frowned at one of the glyphs in front of her. "Severus, this...this looks like a fidelity ward."

He gave her a measuring look. "Hufflepuff is known for hard work and _loyalty_ Hermione. It shouldn't surprise you that her bed requires commitment of its occupants."

"Then you are aware that sleeping in this bed will likely bind us irrevocably?"

"You offered marriage. I didn't think it would matter." His face hardened. "I won't share. If you were expecting the sort of marriage where you get to fuck around as it pleases you, then I'm going to have to decline."

Hermione shook her head. "No, no that isn't what I meant." She took a deep breath, and said awkwardly, "I...I honestly don't think I would mind, so much. I've no one as much a part of my life already as you, even if it is a bit unorthodox. What worries me is that should the marriage law be repealed, you will feel resentful of being unable to be rid of me."

"Marriage shouldn't be something done with one foot out the door already. I do believe I will somehow console myself." With a wicked gleam in his eyes, he tugged the towel from her body to drop it on the floor. He smiled at her, an utterly naughty, filthy smile, and removed her wand from her hair as well. "Get on the bed," he ordered, "now."

Hermione immediately complied, jumping a little in order to get on the high mattress. She turned to face him, and found him gently placing both their wands on one of the room's tables, arranging them neatly side by side. It was a very domestic sight, one that had Hermione clenching her thighs in fresh arousal. He was going to be her husband; her wizard. Until death did them part. The thought was surprisingly evocative.

He studied her nude form for a moment, his eyes dark and his cock visibly hardening, and then ordered, "Lie back and spread your legs. I want to see everything."

His dictatorial attitude really should have offended her, but instead it only served to heighten her excitement. She was wet—wet enough that she could feel it on her thighs despite having towelled off only a minute earlier. Swallowing, and feeling her pulse speed up, Hermione did as he asked, leaning back on her elbows and spreading her bent legs to give him an unimpeded view.

Severus mounted the short steps at the foot of the massive bed, stopping when he stood at her feet. He grasped her ankles, one in each hand, and slowly began to run them up her legs to her knees. He spread her legs even wider, until she was almost uncomfortably spread-eagled. His hands stroked back down lightly, his knuckles lightly tickling her thighs. She involuntarily jerked as if to close her legs to him, and a dark eyebrow arched in reproof.

Firmly, he spread her back to his desired angle and pinched her in retaliation, his look making it clear that he expected her to remain where she was. "I think later, perhaps, I'll turn you about and spank you for that," he murmured. "Would you like that, Hermione? I'm told some women do. I'll spank your arse a nice, rosy red and then fuck you again." He pondered for a moment, and then said, "Or maybe I'll ask you to suck me afterwards. I've never had that before."

He traced the lips of her labia lightly, and then used his fingers to spread them, studying her intimately. A finger swiped slowly through her opening, tracing her from arsehole to clitoris, and she found herself gasping a little, arching a little as his fingertip brushed the small nub.

He grinned at her. "You're wet. You _do_ like this. You like the thought of being spanked and sucking my prick, and you like me fingering your little cunt, don't you? Dirty, naughty woman."

"Yes," She said breathlessly. "Please don't stop."

His grin spread. "I won't." He resumed his study of her, swiping his finger through her wetness again, this time bringing his finger to his lips to taste. He dipped into her pussy again, and then his long arm was reaching across her body to _her_ mouth.

"Suck it off," he whispered. "Suck your juices off my finger like you will my cock later."

Hermione hesitated and then did as he asked, sucking his finger into her mouth and running her tongue against the sensitive pad of his finger. His jaw slackened and his breath hitched. Hermione grasped his wrist to hold his hand steady and sucked his finger in again, mimicking sex.

Suddenly, he took his other hand and plunged two fingers deep into her. Hermione gave a choked squeal even as her muscles contracted around his fingers and she arched into them. Severus sat back, removing his finger from her mouth in order to use his hand to spread her lips wide again for a better view of his other hand.

"Fuck," he whispered, "fuck me, you are so wet, this is going to feel so good." Severus pumped his fingers, alternating between watching her flushed face and his fingers as they slid slowly in and out of her. He traced a finger down to her arsehole and teased the edge of it curiously.

"Do you like being taken here, too? It's another thing I've heard some people like." He smeared her juices around the little hole.

"I—I don't know. I haven't tried it before. It always seemed like it would be uncomfortable to me. Did...did you want to?" Hermione asked, nervous for the answer but also too turned on to deny him outright.

He shrugged. "Someday, perhaps. To try it. I want to try everything, _do_ everything to you. Not tonight, though. Tonight I'm going to fuck this pretty little cunt." His fingers drifted back up and played with her clit again, causing her to arch off the bed again. "Pretty, pretty little pink cunt."

Hermione gasped and a little desperate, whined, "Please, please, please do. I'm not above begging."

He growled back at her playfully and launched himself on top of the bed, startling a shriek out of her as he only barely missed her. Grasping her around the waist, he yanked her up closer to the headboard and then rolled between her thighs.

The angle wasn't quite right, and after a couple of aborted tries, he reached down and notched himself at her entrance. The head of him pushed inside slightly. Their eyes met, and they both stilled. The moment felt heavy with meaning that they hadn't expected and didn't quite understand. Hermione lifted a hand and brushed it gently through his hair. "I think I've been waiting for you for years. Longer than I had realised." She tried to will him to understand. Something in his own eyes flickered in response, and Hermione smiled. "Make love to me, Severus. Make me yours."

A small noise tore from his throat and he pushed deep, thrusting himself all the way inside her. He groaned louder and thrust again, then started to rock heavily inside her, babbling words of pleasure and profanities.

He was thick and satisfying, and as he continued to thrust, his skin gliding against hers, she couldn't help but lift her knees and clench hard around him, drawing another strangled groan from the man above her. His head fell forward and he rained light kisses and bites all over her throat and collarbones, his hips picking up speed as he did so. Soon he was thrusting hard, pounding into her with no sense of awareness any longer.

"I'm going to come. I'm going to come." He chanted it several times, sounding pained, before adding, "You're going to drip my come for days and it's going to _feel. So. Good._ Ah, _fuck!"_

His words sent her exploding just a hairsbreadth before he did, her contracting muscles wringing the last "ah, fuck!" from him as he pushed deep and held there. His face twisted as pleasure ripped through him, leaving him shuddering in its wake.

He pulled out of her with a soft groan, gave her a sleepy look of pleasure, and then collapsed on his side, a short distance from her on the bed. Hermione rolled close to him and tangled their legs together. They were asleep in moments. Whilst they slept, Helga Hufflepuff's binding glyphs etched themselves on the tender skin of their left wrists, and the marriage was magically notated deep in the Ministry records.

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_A/N: Once again, I must offer my sincere and heartfelt thanks to Stgulik,for her fearless editing and to my readers and reviewers who are so supportive. Bless you!_


	7. VII: Pyramid Schemes

**Summary:** Hermione receives a letter from the Ministry informing her of a bit of new legislation, and attempts to deal with it in a unique way. My nod to the genre of Marriage Law Cliche fics, originally written for Dragoon 811 for the SSHG GiftFest 2014.

**Disclaimer:** All recognizable characters and fictional places do not belong to me; I am merely borrowing them for playtime before (respectfully) putting them back. Thank you, JKR, for allowing such things to happen.

**Pairings/Main Characters** Hermione Granger and Severus Snape. Minor appearances by Percy Weasley, Draco Malfoy, George Weasley, Harry Potter and OFCs: Minister Behrends and Serena Savage.

**Warnings:** This story is rated NC-17/MA, and it is _not_ suitable for children under age 18. It is Alternate Universe, and includes strong language, lemons (graphic sex), violence, mention of violence and mention of character death.

**Thank You:** To the wonderful ladies who worked with me on this fic: Savva, Shinigamioni, and Stgulik. You three are brilliant, and it was a blessing to have you on my team. I have tried (and failed) to come up with a suitable Super Hero Team beginning with S that isn't already trademarked. Further thanks to BSC_AG for a second pair of eyes, and AdelaideArcher, for Brit Picking. :-)

**Dedication:** This fic was written for my very good friend, Dragoon811, who has always encouraged me to write, and was kind enough not to be annoyed that I completely ignored her prompts. You're a doll!

* * *

**HAPPILY EVER AFTER THE FACT**  
**By: TycheSong**

* * *

**VII: Pyramid Schemes and Unfortunate Side Effects**

_February 2010_

Ginny Weasley picked up the stylised potion bottle in front of her and eyed the amber liquid inside doubtfully. "A mild lust potion?"

"Sure. Not enough to coerce you into doing something you'd rather not; it's perfectly safe. It's just a little extra to kick-start your drive when your partner is in the mood and you're not." Hermione said brightly. She lifted the wine bottle next to her in silent offer to the room, and Parvati held out her glass in response. There were nine women in Hermione's living room, checking out the various products with varying degrees of interest.

Lavender shrugged and pointed at a green jar of cream that was by her best friend's knee. "Honestly, I think that tingling crème you were talking about—Green Ray?—is more my speed than arousal potion." She laughed, and her finger moved to flick at a purple dildo in Verity's hands. "Especially paired with that."

Hannah blushed, and Ginny immediately started teasing her good-naturedly.

Verity's eyebrows were knitted as she studied the dildo with more clinical interest than sexual. "I swear I have seen this before," she murmured, then raised her voice. "You're sure it's a brand-new product?"

Tracey Ward (née Davis) turned to Serena and Hermione and said, "Thank you for thinking of me when you planned this little toy party—I'm having fun. More than I expected, actually." She laughed shyly.

"Fun is something we could all use more of," Serena agreed.

Hermione nodded, trying to keep track of the several different conversations at once. Verity probably _had_ seen the dildo she held before: on George's desk. When Hermione had contacted him explaining her plan and asking if he had anything he would like to contribute to the _Aurora_ line of products for a cut, he had been surprisingly prolific with the sexual aids. His selection on the top floor of WWW had always been relatively modest; a great deal of the smaller upper floor had been dedicated to the protective items that had been the result of the war years earlier.

Hermione raised her voice to be heard over the chatter of the women, and tried to bring the party back to the bottle Ginny held. _"Amber Evening_ has a couple of side effects. I should make you aware of them before anyone decides to put it in their shopping bag. It doesn't mix with alcohol well," she paused meaningfully and then continued, "and it also temporarily makes pregnancy impossible."

All chatter halted abruptly. Ginny's mouth closed for a moment, then opened again to cautiously ask, "It's a contraceptive?"

_"No,"_ Hermione answered. "It's a _mild aphrodisiac_ with...unfortunate side effects." She grinned. "Despite that, I have a feeling it will be a wildly popular product."

"I...see." Tracey leaned forward, her gaze calculating. "How long do the...unfortunate side effects last?"

Hermione smiled. "Only about four hours, so it's entirely worth trying. I personally would recommend it to anyone. It's great for a little pick-me-up."

Verity's eyes were riveted to the bottle now tightly clenched in Ginny's fist. "Eight galleons, you say? That's rather a lot for a temporary aphrodisiac, Hermione. Especially since we're particular friends of yours. You don't have a friends-and-family discount, do you?"

"What can I say?" Hermione shrugged exaggeratedly. "There really is nothing quite like it. Of course, it would be a bit cheaper if you bought as an _Aurora_ consultant. As an official consultant, you could buy a large package deal from me with several products included, and then re-sell the items at full price. Of course, you'd also be welcome to resell whole packages to _other_ people to sell. And then both of us would end up with a sale, as well as jump-starting the career of another young lady."

"Like Avon," Hannah clarified.

"Very similar idea, yes. More like Ann Summers, considering. Only _Aurora_ uses Wizarding products, of course."

A cat-like grin settled on Serena's face. "Where do I sign up? I've been thinking of hosting a bit of a private get-together lately. I know several women who might be interested in the _Aurora_ line, particularly _Amber Evening._"

Hermione sipped her own tea and said demurely, "Wait until I tell you about the fantasy bath foam. It's called _Indigo Dreams_ and it's delightful. I'm thinking of having it installed as a tap to the tub at our house."

The women laughed appreciatively, and with very little pretense at decorum, all of the bottles Hermione had on hand of _Amber Evening_ were divided amongst them and carefully tucked away.

"Alright, Hermione, spill." Ginny took a healthy sip of wine and grinned at her. "We've all been kept wondering for weeks, and the media is having a field day. How in the hell have you been married and estranged from _Snape_, of all people, for eleven years?"

Well, she had known sooner or later she would have to explain herself in more detail. It was honestly a miracle she'd got away with as little as she had this long. Hermione stood, grabbing a stack of _Aurora_ catalogues to be passed around the room.

Taking a deep breath, she told them the story she and Severus had agreed upon. "As you are well aware, Severus never defected back to Voldemort. What few people know is that he continued his duties as a spy, feeding information to me through Phineas Nigellus' portrait. We married toward the end of that year to offer each other mutual protection. We were hedging our chances that whichever side won, one of us would be able to keep the other from execution." The best lie was founded upon truth, according to Severus, and there was very little evidence after eleven years to prove their story a lie.

"The night before the battle," Hermione continued, "he was informed that Voldemort knew of his true loyalties to Harry. He tried to explain all this to Minerva that night when he abdicated the Headmaster's seat to her. He knew he wouldn't survive in either camp long; no one trusted him at that point beyond me, and I hardly had the time to stop and explain to everyone. After the battle, he thought it would be best for all involved if he just stayed dead and got to live in peace. Of course, then this law went and ruined that, so he's come out of hiding. That's really all there is to it."

"Amazing," Parvati breathed. "All these years we thought he was dead."

From behind her shoulder Serena gave Hermione an amused look, but didn't say anything. Of course, she was well aware that Severus' portrait had indeed been active for years. Hermione had brought her into their confidence right away; it couldn't have been helped, really.  
"I _never_ imagined in my life that someday I'd be buying strawberry-flavoured lubricant and bath beads from my greasy Potions professor." Lavender dissolved into laughter. "I'm sorry, but the thought is ludicrous."

"You aren't buying them from him. You're buying them from me," Hermione said smartly.

"Oh, come on, Hermione. You pull Professor Snape out of nowhere and start selling miracle potions with 'unfortunate side effects' just weeks later? It's obvious." Parvati scoffed.

"Speaking of which, how many of those can you get your hands on in the next two weeks?" Verity asked. "I would like to sign up as a consultant immediately, and I'm sure Ron would be interested in having a display of _Aurora_ products on our upstairs level. I'm willing to commit to every ounce of those you've got on his behalf for the next month."

"Now just a minute, you can't do that! We all want that stuff, and you can't just decide that you get all of it. I'm sure several of us are interested in being _Aurora_ consultants!" Lavender protested.

"Absolutely," Tracey agreed.

"I'm signing up, too!" Ginny said, hands on her hips.

* * *

Severus had made it clear that he wasn't willing to spend all of his time doing "Potions grunt work," as he called it. He had insisted he was only willing to allot one day a week to the production of _Amber Evening._ That had turned out to be about one hundred sixty bottles total, most of which Hermione had just sold. She doubted the remaining bottles would last long, especially once she reserved her own personal share.

That was one area, after all, that she and Severus had absolutely no trouble adjusting to, Hermione thought with a grin. To his surprise, they were fairly compatible in many things, their interests and mutual need for privacy blending their lives together with only a few problems.

It had been odd at first, for both of them. Just having someone _there,_ living in the same space was an entirely different feeling for both of them. Their marriage glyphs had both helped and hindered at first. They had studied the matching runes in detail the morning after their consummation, in the hours before Severus had called Minerva to the office.

The pale gold glyphs were layered runelines comprised of several different symbols. The base was a beautifully scripted H—for Hufflepuff, no doubt. Overlaying it were runes denoting loyalty, protection, fidelity and love.

Severus' was positioned almost directly beneath his Dark Mark. To Hermione's amusement, the sinister snake seemed to almost recoil from the glyph, silently hissing at it and retreating to writhe more closely to the skull it originated from.

Severus had looked pained. "Albus would say something nauseating about death fearing love." He had glanced up at the portrait above him, as if hoping to get a rise out of his predecessor. Albus Dumbledore had ignored them, continuing to blissfully snooze away in his frame.

"Would he be so wrong?" Hermione had answered, philosophically. "Love transcends death, conquers it, if you will, in a way that death could not begin to understand. By nature we fear what we do not understand."

Severus lifted an eyebrow at her and quoted, "'The last enemy to be destroyed is death?'"

Hermione grinned. "And 'Many waters cannot quench love, nor can the floods drown it.' Admit it, you like the idea."

He had smiled in response, and it had felt like seeing the sun for the first time after a long winter. He wanted to try. He wanted to believe, and so had she, that maybe they could make something work out of the mess the Ministry had put her in.

Upon returning to her time, their glyphs had proven to be more than mere binding tattoos. Through the link they now shared, Hermione found that she just _knew_ certain things about Severus. She had known when he had been in a particularly good mood, she had known when he had sliced his finger carelessly in the potions lab. When she concentrated, she could _feel_ his indecision about how to deal with her.

She didn't bring it up, waiting until his looks of consternation had made it clear that the connection worked both ways. Severus had not been pleased in the slightest, and his discomfort and anger had radiated through her for days following. For the first few weeks, they had felt more and more claustrophobic, getting on each other's nerves repeatedly. They quickly decided that they must have separate labs at RS&amp;M, as well as separate studies at home. Of course, then they had almost never seen each other, except at bedtime. At some point during this period, Severus figured out how to use his considerable occlumency talents to block the connection. It was both a relief and oddly lonely—the space where he had been now felt like a hollowness within her. Hermione let the disappointment and loneliness bother her for several weeks before she objected to this arrangement as well.

There had been a screaming row at that point. At least, Hermione had screamed. Severus' anger had been cutting and cold, which of course, had only served to make her more frustrated. Doors had slammed and they had slept with their backs to each other for nearly a week before he simply disappeared. He had been gone all day, and Hermione started to worry. She could tell he was safe, but beyond that…

He finally returned home late in the evening, and had wordlessly presented her with a dahlia he had found somewhere. Hermione had nearly fallen over in shock; Severus had never struck her as a flower sort of person, as a man or a portrait.

Things improved after that. They had recombined their study space at home, and he had loosened his occlumency shields just enough that she could once again feel his reassuring presence without being overwhelmed.

Hermione found that Severus was intelligent, sarcastically funny and, little by little, beginning to reveal a sweet romantic side that he had kept tightly under wraps for years. Soon after, little gestures and tokens started to appear. A small note left in her bag wishing her a good day; one of his books left on her desk for her to read. It had taken her some time to understand, but once she had, it had delighted her. He was _courting_ her, wooing his wife the way he might have wooed a girlfriend. It was a wonderful and heady feeling to know that he really, truly wanted to make their marriage something more than simply incredibly good sex.

The sex certainly was that. Contrary to their first night together, he wasn't prone to simply leaping on her and fucking her into mindless orgasm. He seemed to prefer long, lazily drawn-out explorations, touching and stroking her over and over until _she_ was beyond control and leapt at _him._ Her displays of enthusiasm always delighted and appeared to awe him. He made love to her in return with unflagging eagerness and tenderness, as if he regarded her presence as precious.

There were times during their love-making when he dropped all of the occlumency in their bond, and instead deliberately focused on it. The intensity of their mutual pleasure and emotions reflecting back on each other heightened the experience to an explosive extreme. Neither of them ever lasted long when they did that.

Hermione found herself responding to his more romantic overtures in kind. The first time she snuck a note into the leather folio he carried to and from RS&amp;M she had felt a bit foolish, like a teenager passing notes in class. Her discomfort had been utterly dispelled when he appeared two hours later in her lab, backed her into a corner and kissed her enthusiastically.

It was an odd sort of relationship but one that seemed to be working well so far. Hermione's few adult relationships had primarily been with other career-oriented people, with more of a focus on sexual gratification than on an actual relationship. It was heart-meltingly wonderful that her husband seemed to want her to be emotionally invested in him.

After Ginny and the other women left, Hermione climbed the narrow stairs, smiling to herself as she poked her head into Severus' study. It was empty, the only evidence of his presence the boots in the middle of the room and several open books still strewn about. Severus never seemed to be able to read one book at a time, and rarely put them away when he was done. Hermione tried the bedroom next and found him drowsing on the bed with still another book open on his chest.

"Hey," she said.

"Mmmph." He cracked open one eyelid. "Did you enjoy yourself?"

"At first," Hermione replied. "It's tiring after a while to play hostess to that many people."

He snorted softly. "You were loud. There was giggling. I felt like I was listening to the Great Hall during luncheon."

"A side product of throwing a group of women into a room, especially if it's a party centered around _aides d'amour._"

He gave her pained look. "Are we really going to call them that?"

"What would you prefer we called them?"

He grumbled, "It's peculiar that you're turning something private into a party. It went well, I trust?"

Hermione grinned. "Muggles have been selling products at parties for years—since before I was born, Severus. It's not new, just new to the Wizarding world, and _highly_ successful. I'm nearly sold out of _Amber Evening_ already."

His eyes opened all the way."After one night? I just finished those yesterday. They're gone already?"

"I even raised the price when I saw how interested they were. I'm selling them for eight galleons now, retail, and their original retail price is their 'consultant discount.' I know between the two of us we don't really need the money. Circe knows _Draco_ certainly doesn't, but it's rather satisfying to realise just how ridiculously rich this is actually going to make us. We're easily going to make up the cost of the free ones."

Severus sat up, his brows rising. "You sold four-hour contraceptives for the retail price of what a month-long should cost, called it a discount and they _still_ all sold?" Then he frowned. "Which free ones?"

"The standard, aphrodisiac-free ones that we're going to make on the sly for low-income families that need it."

Severus looked incredulous. "Does Draco know about this? Do you even have any idea how you're going to get them dispensed?"

Hermione's lips pursed in disapproval. "Yes, he knows. Serena—his wife now—has found a Healer who has been attempting to find her own sources to pass out under the table. All we would be doing is dropping them for her to pick up somewhere."

He gave her a measuring look. "Be careful, Hermione. Right now we can still claim that we don't know the components I'm using are illegally gained, and _Amber Evening_ doesn't raise red flags at first glance. Once you start passing out standard contraceptives, you are more likely to get caught. Only last week, a healer in Kent was sentenced to five years in Azkaban for giving out illegal contraception."

Hermione shook her head. "I can't let this happen when I know I have the means to fight it, Severus. I wouldn't stand down when the stakes were higher as a child. I won't stand down now. Until the Ministry pulls its head out of its arse, these people _deserve_ to be able to choose to not have children!"

Severus blew out a long breath. "How many more will I need to make, do you think?"

She started drawing her robes off her shoulders enticingly. "Well, I suppose it depends on how many you would like us to keep for ourselves. Standard is once a month. If you prefer to use _Amber Evening..."_

He eyed her actions with interest, sitting up a little and putting the forgotten book aside in order to watch. "At least a couple for each day. More?" He seemed to think about it.

Hermione, now naked, crawled across the foot of the bed toward him. "My, that's quite a bit. Have I mentioned how clever I think you are for shortening the effectiveness, adding rose petals and calling it an aphrodisiac instead of a contraceptive? Or how unbelievably sexy and irresistible I find a clever man?"

He reached out for her, drawing her close, and began to play with her nipples. "Not since this morning."

"I'd best remedy that, then."

"Yes, I do think that would be best."

Hermione laughed and kissed him.

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_A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Just a reminder: reviews = love ;-) Takk!_


	8. VIII: For Every Action

**Summary:** Hermione receives a letter from the Ministry informing her of a bit of new legislation, and attempts to deal with it in a unique way. My nod to the genre of Marriage Law Cliche fics, originally written for Dragoon 811 for the SSHG GiftFest 2014.

**Disclaimer:** All recognizable characters and fictional places do not belong to me; I am merely borrowing them for playtime before (respectfully) putting them back. Thank you, JKR, for allowing such things to happen.

**Pairings/Main Characters** Hermione Granger and Severus Snape. Minor appearances by Percy Weasley, Draco Malfoy, George Weasley, Harry Potter and OFCs: Minister Behrends and Serena Savage.

**Warnings:** This story is rated NC-17/MA, and it is _not_ suitable for children under age 18. It is Alternate Universe, and includes strong language, lemons (graphic sex), violence, mention of violence and mention of character death.

**Thank You:** To the wonderful ladies who worked with me on this fic: Savva, Shinigamioni, and Stgulik. You three are brilliant, and it was a blessing to have you on my team. I have tried (and failed) to come up with a suitable Super Hero Team beginning with S that isn't already trademarked. Further thanks to BSC_AG for a second pair of eyes, and AdelaideArcher, for Brit Picking. :-)

**Dedication:** This fic was written for my very good friend, Dragoon811, who has always encouraged me to write, and was kind enough not to be annoyed that I completely ignored her prompts. You're a doll!

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**HAPPILY EVER AFTER THE FACT**  
**By: TycheSong**

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**VIII: For Every Action...**

_March 2010_

The visit from Minerva during Hogwarts' spring holiday was awkward.

She had flooed one morning without warning, requesting entrance. Hermione had been uncertain how to respond until she had felt a small stab of resignation drift through the bond. Severus' expression was carefully shuttered, but Hermione could tell he was not looking forward to this particular meeting. Recalling their final meeting before she had stolen him away in time, Hermione did not blame him in the least.

It needed to be done, however, and so she had bade the Headmistress enter. Minerva had aged a bit since Hermione had last seen her in the present; no doubt to Severus she looked positively ancient. She looked tired, in Hermione's opinion, and entirely uncertain of her welcome. The three of them stood silently for several long moments, before Hermione finally decided to break the ice before her husband could. He could be terribly sarcastic and rude when he was nervous.

"Good morning, Minerva. Thank you for coming to our home. Would you like some tea? It's Irish Breakfast."

The older woman nodded thankfully. "Yes, thank you, Hermione." Hermione nodded and left the small sitting room to retrieve a third cup and a fresh pot. As she did so, she heard Minerva address her husband. "I'm sorry...I'm so sorry, Severus."

It was probably better if she stayed in the kitchen whilst the tea steeped. Minerva and Severus were both very proud, and this meeting couldn't be easy for either of them. Their last had gone abysmally. As Severus had anticipated, Minerva had not believed his assertion that he truly was an agent for the light. She had said many bitter and hateful things, accusing him of not only Albus' murder and betrayal, but also of student torture, embezzlement from the school, and even sexual deviancy.

He had taken her words stoically, though Hermione knew they had hurt. Particularly the accusation that he had been molesting students. The others he had expected, but that...especially on the very morning after his first sexual experience, had hurt him deeply. It was especially cutting since his new wife _was_ a former student, and her eighteen-year-old self was still out there somewhere, her memory fresh in his mind.

Minerva had gone so far as to laugh when Severus had told her that Voldemort had "discovered his true loyalties." He quietly told her that he planned to try to run, to direct Voldemort's anger away from the school, but that he did not believe he would outlive the week. She had scoffed and called it justice. Severus had solemnly abdicated his position as Headmaster, effective dinner time, and the woman had spat at his feet, and informed him that if she found him on Hogwarts grounds once the wards recognised her authority, she would kill him. She had fought in the previous war, and Hermione knew that Severus had believed her.

Yes, no doubt it was _much_ better that she wasn't in the room with them just now.

Hermione sought out the little knot of emotions in her mind that represented Severus, and was reassured to find that the predominant emotion was unease and discomfort, not anger. Carefully, she lifted the tea tray, and headed back towards the sitting room, listening briefly outside the door to make sure she could interrupt.

Hearing only silence, Hermione entered, and found Severus seated, a beautifully framed plaque in hand, and a gold and enameled medal on a white ribbon dangling from his long fingers. He glanced up as she entered, and said softly, "Professor McGonagall has been kind enough to return the Order of Merlin, First Class, she's been holding in trust for me."

Hermione turned to look at her old mentor, catching the sad acceptance in her eyes that Severus had referred to her so formally. "You were never in your portrait at the school, and I never thought to question your death. I should have. I should have sought you out earlier and apologised for everything I said that night. You _tried_ to tell me." Minerva's voice was strained, and Hermione handed her a cup of tea. Minerva took it and sipped, apparently grateful that her hands had something to occupy them.

The three of them sat in silence for a few minutes more, before Minerva stood, her back ramrod straight. "I shall take my leave of you, now. I hope you are able to forgive me someday, Severus."

He waited until she was at the fireplace before finally saying, "Thank you, for bringing me this. I...I am not sure we can ever be friends again, the way we were, but I do thank you for this." He took a deep breath as she nodded, and continued, "I do not blame you for not believing me, that night. I do hope that you realise that however many heinous things I had to do for the Dark Lord, I swear I did do the best I could to protect the children."

"I do," Minerva said quietly. "I was angry. I believed you to be a traitor, and I'll not deny that, but I don't think I ever honestly believed that you would actually touch the young ladies as it was rumoured."

Severus nodded. "There's that at least."

Minerva left silently, and Hermione wrapped her arms around her husband and cried the tears he wouldn't.

* * *

_May 2010_

"Oh, my _God!"_ Hermione stared at the _Daily Prophet_ in front of her, dumbstruck by the awful headline glaring out at her. "Severus, have you seen the paper?"

Her husband set the kettle to boil for their second pot of tea that morning and gave her a wry look. "Hermione, the _Prophet_ ran an article just last January labeling you as a necromancer, and the new 'Dark Lady.' Then when the _Aurora_ label started taking off, they ran another one claiming that you sell more than just sexual enhancements and that I married you to remain your best customer. We've had to field rants, carefully worded inquiries into your regime, indecent propositions and howlers for weeks." He paused and then finished with heavy sarcasm. "So, yes, I firmly support the continued existence of that pinnacle of journalism and read it every chance I get."

Hermione ignored his jibe and said quietly, "According to this, there was a mass suicide in the Ministry this morning. Right in front of the memorial fountain."

Severus' head shot up. "What?"

"Five women and one man. They had apparently all filed complaints of either domestic abuse or sexual assault against their partners in the last couple of months, only to have nothing come of it. They sat with their backs to the Memorial Fountain this morning with a sign that said 'We Die for Freedom,' and they drank poison." Hermione read the article further. "Apparently, they've traced the poison bottles back to Essex Brewing and the owner—someone named Thaddeus Thistlewent—has been taken in as an accomplice to murder!"

Severus' jaw hardened and a tic appeared near his left eye. "Thaddeus is the owner of one of the largest breweries in England. He had over twenty Potioneers working under him. He's a decent man. They can't possibly make that stick."

"That's not all." Hermione read further. "Apparently according to Auror records, the reports of abuse, violence, sexual crime and suicide has risen nearly thirty-four percent in the five months since the law became effective. The reporter says that there's going to be a sit-in at the fountain against the law tomorrow. She's encouraging people to attend."

She looked up from the paper, her face flushed. "Severus, this is wonderful! I mean, it's a tragedy and absolutely awful that these people felt like there was no other way out, of course. But it's wonderful that people are finally going to do something about it! We're taking a stand. I'm going to go."

His nostrils flared in what Hermione had learned even as a child was a bad sign. "I don't think that's a good idea, Hermione," he said. "This could get dangerous. There are a lot of very angry people out there. He hesitated and said softly, "I thought things were good between us, that you were happy, even."

Hermione blinked in surprise. "Severus, you...you aren't the problem, not by a long shot. Sure we had a few hiccoughs, but nothing we haven't been able to work out." Her words faltered.  
"Even if this law were repealed, even if we weren't bound magically, I would still want to be with you. I would still love _you._ This has nothing to do with us; this has to do with our basic rights as people and letting the Ministry have far too much power over what should be a personal and private choice. I'm _going._ You're welcome to come too, if you like," she added.

He stared at her, his expression frozen in shock. "You...you just said you love me."

Hermione felt herself blush. She hadn't realised the words had even slipped out. "I...I suppose I did, didn't I?"

"You can't take it back!" he said quickly, as if worried she would do just that.

"No." She searched his face. "I couldn't if I wanted to. To be honest I thought you already knew. Is...is it okay?" she asked hesitantly.

His answering look was gratifyingly happy, and just a touch wondering. "It is the sort of declaration I have wished for all my life." He looked about to say something else, then seemed to check himself, and instead responded with, "You'll not regret it—me. Not ever. I swear it."

She smiled and reached across the table to take his hand. "No, I really don't think I shall."

* * *

Severus declined attending the protest the following morning.

"I detest people and I detest public displays; I am officially retired from making a bloody difference for the Greater Good." His gaze grew troubled, and he stroked one of her curls softly. "Hermione, please be careful. Don't do anything foolish."

"Severus, it's a sit-in. The point is to inconvenience the Ministry and force them to take notice. We're not planning anything dangerous. It's already been made clear that several Aurors will be there on duty to make sure things don't get out of hand."

"Is Potter amongst them?"

"He is, actually. He's rather put out about it; he very much wants to join us on the Floor instead. The MLE isn't letting anyone off duty, apparently. Luna will be there on their behalf, though."

"Will you please at least choose a place near where he is posted? I may not be fond of Potter, but I do trust that he will look to your safety should something happen."

Hermione touched his cheek and kissed him lightly. "I promise."

Glancing at the scene in front of her, Hermione couldn't help but think her promise was easier made than done. She had arrived a full half-hour before the sit-in was supposed to start only to find the Atrium already filling quickly. Looking about, she spotted Harry near the fountain itself, in the centre, looking grim.

Hermione picked her way through the crowd, her murmured apologies more or less lost in the rising din. She was nearly in front of Harry before he noticed her, and to her surprise the look he gave her was one of alarm. "Hermione! What are you doing here?" he said.

Confused, Hermione replied, "Same thing you would be doing here if you could have got off work. I'm protesting. Where's Luna?"

"By the Floo entrance, passing out protective necklaces of some kind. I think people think they're protest-related, because people are _wearing_ them, but..." Harry shook his head. "Not important. You shouldn't be here, Hermione. You need to get out, immediately. Out of the country, if you can."

"What? Harry, what's wrong?"

"A Healer at St. Mungo's was turned in by one of the assistants for having unauthorised contraception. This morning she named you and one Serena Malfoy as her suppliers. Gibbons signed a warrant for your arrest and assigned Aurors to apprehend you barely half an hour ago. They've probably already discovered that you're not at work or home. You need to get out, _now."_

"Oh, gods."

"Get out of here, Hermione, before you're seen. You won't do any good to anyone in Azkaban."

Suddenly the crowd around them jostled and surged, and someone yelled, "Hey! Isn't that Percival Weasley? He's on the Marriage and Family Act Board! I saw his name on the roster!"

Hermione and Harry turned in horror to see several protesters converging in on a surprised and alarmed Percy. The man held his hands up, and stammered something, clearly trying to explain that he meant no harm.

"Oi, he's trying to join the protest, calm down!" Harry shouted, trying to shoulder his way through the crowd.

Someone else shouted at Percy, "You and arseholes like you are the reason we're here!"

"I'm just...I'm just trying..." The redhead stumbled backward, away from the angry people closing in on him, but found he had nowhere to go. The people behind him were not allowing him to make an escape.

Harry tried again. "I said, _stand down!_ This is supposed to be a peaceful protest for anyone to join!"

"My sister killed herself because of you!"

"You had no right—!"

"This is your final warning, my wand has been drawn and I will stun if you lot don't sit down! Aarons, get your arse over here, I need backup." Harry shouted.

"The Boy Who Lived to Kiss Ministry Arse, is it?"

"Protecting slime like this! Get them!"

Several protesters drew their wands and started trying to hex in the crowded room. Others actually reached out to grab Percy, and then Hermione couldn't see either of her friends as the crowd converged around them. She drew her wand, but then hesitated, trying to decide if she should help, or if she even could.

"Stop!" she shouted ineffectively, and tried to elbow her way through the crowd. Her efforts were equally ineffective. There seemed to be no way to tell who was trying to break up the fight and who was adding to the problem. Someone's elbow sank into her stomach as they shoved their way through and Hermione grunted, doubling over as she lost her breath. She nearly lost her balance as she was jostled, and panicking slightly, Hermione stunned the man next to her as she tried to remove herself from the growing situation.

People pressed in around her, trying to see what the fuss was about, blocking the exits. Someone on the far side of the brawl was pointed out as being another Ministry worker of some kind, and the hapless woman was quickly overwhelmed. Hermione's heart sank as she could hear the woman cry, "I'm just a secretary, stop, please stop hurting me!" More Aurors started shouldering their way through, shouting orders to remain calm and "break it up," all to no avail.

Abruptly deciding that anything she tried would not only make the situation worse, Harry's warning of her impending arrest still ringing in her mind, Hermione turned and tried to make her way back to the Floos. If she were lucky, she would be able to get out and send a message to Severus to meet her somewhere inconspicuous. _Drat_ the anti-Apparition wards on the Ministry! It was nearly impossible to get to the Floos, which were still managing to spew more people _in_ to the already-packed room.

One of the Aurors who was trying to shove past her towards the fight halted next to her and grabbed her arm forcefully instead. "I know you; you're Hermione Granger!" he announced. His wand was suddenly pointed at her chest and his grip tightened on her arm. "Hermione Granger, you are under arrest for the illegal distribution of controlled substances. Surrender your wand."

Her heart in her throat, Hermione shifted her gaze to the arm he held fast, where she still held her wand. "I'll come peacefully, I'll even wait for you, but you need to help break that up!" She shouted over the noise.

The auror shook his head stubbornly. "I'll not be responsible for letting you escape! You're coming with me."

Hermione opened her mouth to respond when a large wizard next to them interrupted. "Here now, you can't arrest her!" It was Kerrick Finnegan, whose older brother, Seamus had died in the battle of Hogwarts. Her arrest was actually gathering a good deal of attention in their little corner. Kerrick drew his own wand threateningly. "That's Hermione Granger, and she's a bloody hero. You can't arrest her."

"Sir, I'm going to ask you to stand down," said the Auror bravely, his wand shifting between Kerrick and Hermione. "A warrant was signed for her arrest. No one is above the law, not even Hermione Granger."

"That's what you lot said about the Marriage Law!" an angry woman interjected.

"Hermione hasn't done anything wrong!" Kerrick took a step closer; the large Irishman was clearly furious.

The Auror's grip tightened painfully, and Hermione winced in response. "Ms. Granger has been implicated in an illegal substance ring. She is under arrest!"

"Stop hurting her!" Kerrick growled. "That woman has done more for this world than you could imagine!"

"Illegal substances? You mean birth control!" The woman, who Hermione now recognised as being a year or so below her in school, snarled and drew her wand. "Because of this idiot law and you idiot Aurors mindlessly doing whatever you're told, I'm pregnant! I had to end my apprenticeship! I don't _want_ a baby, and I don't _want_ my so-called husband. Unhand her!"

The Auror's wand shifted once more, now aiming at the woman, and Kerrick didn't wait any longer. He spat a hex, and the Auror groaned, doubling over. The motion jerked Hermione down with him, as he still refused to let her go. Around her, confusion exploded as people not quite near enough to see started talking.

"What's going on over there?"

"I think that Auror hexed Hermione Granger for giving out birth control!"

"He's got another hex coming, then!"

"Someone's got birth control? Where? You can't keep it all to yourselves!"

As the situation was misconstrued around her, hexes started flying. In such close quarters wands were near useless, ricocheting dangerously. The angry crowd, desperate to be heard, started reaching, yelling and punching. Glass shattered beyond the fountain as a full-blown riot broke out in the Ministry atrium. The Auror had finally lost his grip on her and was now being beaten in front of her.

Hermione watched in horror as he went down to his knees and tried to shield his head as people started kicking him. _It wasn't supposed to happen like this; it was supposed to be a peaceful protest!_ She tightened her grip on her wand until it actually hurt. She needed to get out of here, fast. Hermione turned back towards the Floos, and once again tried to make her way toward them.

It was slow progress, and hexes were now flying wildly and at random. She tried to shield herself as a burning hex flew at her. Unfortunately, she didn't have the arm room to cast a _Protego_, and her shield ineffectively protected nothing higher than her knees.

Hermione fell back hard, throwing others out of balance as the hex hit her squarely in the left shoulder. Blistering pain shot across her upper chest, collarbone and down her arm. Her shoulder felt like someone had just stabbed it with a red-hot fire iron, and with a cry of pain, she dropped to her knees.

It was the least safe position to be in, and in short order she found herself lying flat as someone tripped over her. Her shoulder radiating heat and pain, she struggled to get up as people pressed around her, mentally screaming, _Severus!_ Then someone's elbow hit her solidly in the head, and everything went dark.

* * *

_A/N:_ _Well. She seems to be in some trouble, doesn't she? __Thank you once again-I appreciate the time you've taken to read, please review-only one more chapter to go!  
_

_I've written out some of my head-canon notes for the Harry Potter 'verse (focusing on basic magical mechanics/semantics). The little things that don't crop up often but can flavour writing. If you are at all interested in reading you can find them on both AO3 and LiveJournal. Unfortunately I can't post them here, but I'll post links on my profile. I'll be adding to it as the mood strikes me-notes on wandlore or the Sorting, etc etc. Some people are really into the behind-the-scenes how-it-works stuff, so I thought I'd share. :-) _


	9. IX: The Prisoner of Azkaban

**Summary:** Hermione receives a letter from the Ministry informing her of a bit of new legislation, and attempts to deal with it in a unique way. My nod to the genre of Marriage Law Cliche fics, originally written for Dragoon 811 for the SSHG GiftFest 2014.

**Disclaimer:** All recognizable characters and fictional places do not belong to me; I am merely borrowing them for playtime before (respectfully) putting them back. Thank you, JKR, for allowing such things to happen.

**Pairings/Main Characters** Hermione Granger and Severus Snape. Minor appearances by Percy Weasley, Draco Malfoy, George Weasley, Harry Potter and OFCs: Minister Behrends and Serena Savage.

**Warnings:** This story is rated NC-17/MA, and it is _not_ suitable for children under age 18. It is Alternate Universe, and includes strong language, lemons (graphic sex), violence, mention of violence and mention of character death.

**Thank You:** To the wonderful ladies who worked with me on this fic: Savva, Shinigamioni, and Stgulik. You three are brilliant, and it was a blessing to have you on my team. I have tried (and failed) to come up with a suitable Super Hero Team beginning with S that isn't already trademarked. Further thanks to BSC_AG for a second pair of eyes, and AdelaideArcher, for Brit Picking. :-)

**Dedication:** This fic was written for my very good friend, Dragoon811, who has always encouraged me to write, and was kind enough not to be annoyed that I completely ignored her prompts. You're a doll!

* * *

**HAPPILY EVER AFTER THE FACT**  
**By: TycheSong**

* * *

**VIII: For Every Action...**

_May, 2010_

Hermione awoke feeling a bit stiff, but otherwise in apparent good health. The ceiling above her was unfamiliar, and her wrists were each tightly encased by one of the magical binding and tracking cuffs that Aurors used on criminals. Her wand was also missing.

She frowned, trying to remember. She had been caught, and a warrant issued for her arrest. A series of misunderstandings at the Ministry had escalated, and the 'peaceful sit-in' had become a full scale riot in a matter of minutes.

A glance around her revealed little of her location. The room was small and barren, with little beyond her bed, a toilet, sink and small counter. It gave off a sterile smell that burned her nose, and had no items of comfort. A room for someone injured, but definitely not a conventional room at St. Mungo's. Warding glyphs were plainly marked at the corners of each wall and by the door; she was clearly in a holding cell of some kind.

Hermione sat up, her muscles protesting, and a low alarm went off. The door was immediately opened, and a stern-faced woman entered, followed by a man. They both had their wands drawn. The severe cut of their robes and the small tower embroidered on the left shoulder marked them clearly as Azkaban guards. The small H just beneath marked him as a Healer as well.

Hermione felt a chill snake down her spine and lifted her chin defiantly at the couple. "Is that it, then? I'm not even to be given a fair trial?" Her voice was hoarse and shakier than she would have liked. It made her wonder just how _long_ she had been unconscious. "Just like Sirius Black, sentenced without proof?"

The female guard ignored her as she placed herself between Hermione and the door. The Healer gave her a disapproving look and ran several diagnostic spells. He paused, made a few notations on a clipboard, then ran another.

Irritated, Hermione tried again. "You're just going to ignore me? I have the right to a trial, you know."

The Healer glanced up with another frown. "You have done. Minister Behrends has always followed the letter of the law. It is not necessary for you to be awake and present at said trial if there is an abundance of evidence. Remain quiet now, please. I'm nearly finished."

"Am I allowed to know what I was convicted of? Or my sentence?"

The Healer pursed his lips mutinously, and this time it was the guard who answered, her voice bored. "As employees of Azkaban Prison and Ministry, it is not our business what crime you have committed. Our job is just to see that you serve your sentence, which has been notated as three years. Thus far, you've served two weeks of it here in the infirmary."

_Two weeks?_ No wonder she was stiff! No doubt she had been kept in a Healer's Coma the entire time, even when it hadn't been medically necessary in order to make security more manageable. Hermione cleared her throat and tried to gain more information. "Where is my husband, and what happened to Percy? Percival Weasley? What about Harry Potter? Are they okay? Am I allowed visitation rights?"

The woman just gave her an unpleasant smile. She seemed to be enjoying her position of authority just a bit too much. After waiting a significantly long moment, as if to prove that she didn't have to say anything, the guard said casually, "Mr. Snape has his own trial to attend, of course. It's fairly obvious that he not only knew about your illegal activities, but assisted you. I doubt you'll get to see him for a long time. After all, we do keep the men and the women separate here, and the penalty for manufacturing illegal substances is worse than _dealing_ them."

Catching her lip between her teeth, Hermione fervently hoped that Severus made it unscathed out of the mess she'd got them into, and that both Percy and Harry were alright. Tentatively, she reached out for him through their bond, and was met by a thick wave of worry. He did not seem to be injured in any way, but he was extremely anxious. It was impossible to tell if it was on her behalf, for his own sake, or a mixture of both.

"She's fine now, healthy enough to be transferred to a permanent cell. I'm clearing her," the Healer said shortly, signing his clipboard with a small flourish. The comment yanked her out of her own mind, and shakily Hermione stood. The Healer gave her another disturbed look and hurriedly moved to the exit. The guard held open the door for him with false solicitousness, her polite smile returning to an ugly sneer once he was out of the room. Another guard, this one male, entered Hermione's cell then, and the two of them escorted her from the room.

Azkaban seemed to be laid out in an unimaginative grid, with a large rectangular spiraling staircase running up the centre. In short order she found out that the infirmary was on the first floor, and heavily guarded. She was led up past the second and third landings to the fourth floor before finally locked in a cell, several corridors away from the staircase.

Her permanent cell was very similar to the infirmary cell. It was perhaps fifteen feet squared-larger than she had expected. The walls were clearly marked all the way around the perimeter with heavy binding wards to prevent escape. There was a small cot with a thin mattress, a small pillow, and a single fleece blanket. There was a toilet, a sink, a towel with a small shower head and drain but no curtain. Her furnishings were completed with a table and chair. The sterile smell was replaced by the faint stink of body odor and desperation. Deodorant was evidently not on the list of necessities that taxpayers were willing to take care of for prisoners.

Hermione wrinkled her nose and set in to wait. Eventually someone would be by to feed her, surely. If it wasn't Warden Bitchface, she would try asking her questions again. Twice, she heard footsteps outside her door, but they continued by without pause. Guards were doing their rounds. When her dinner was finally presented to her, it was brought by a house elf. Her questions only got her an indifferent look from the elf, who had no doubt served hundreds of angry and questioning prisoners in the past. He popped back out of existence without a single word.

Approximately an hour later, the light suddenly went out, plunging her into darkness so complete she couldn't see her own hands.

Stumbling to her cot, Hermione fell onto the thin, lumpy mattress and wondered how she was going to endure three years of the silent solitude and bland food. She could only be grateful that the dementors were no longer in residence, but the prospect of long stretching days of nothing hardly seemed a better alternative.

The first night was the longest Hermione had ever experienced in her life. She found that she wasn't even slightly tired, but had no options other than to lie there. It was too dark to see even if she was allowed a book or a bit of parchment and quill, there was no one to talk to. She was trapped for the night with nothing but her own thoughts.

Despite her determination to be strong, she found herself weeping. Somewhere in this same tower, perhaps even nearby, Thorfinn Rowle and Antonin Dolohov were still locked up, serving life-long sentences. How had the world worked out that she would be fighting for a basic human right and yet sharing a prison with criminals who had unapologetically murdered Muggles and children?

She wondered if Severus, Harry and Percy were alright, or if anyone in the riot had been killed. Reaching out through their bond again, she tried to ascertain more information. He was very easy to sense—he must have stripped away all of his Occlumency barriers. He was probably trying to sense her as well. The thought made her feel better. In a way, it felt like she was a little less alone. Hermione concentrated, trying to decipher what he was feeling through their bond.

Worry was still predominant, but she _could_ sense more now. He was determined, and angry, and...love. She felt his love like a warm blanket projecting out for her. Gulping a little, she hung onto it, and tried to project the same. She focused on the little things that had brought them together, first as a portrait and then as a man. She carefully drew on memories of his little gifts, wry smiles and solid embrace. She recalled their intellectual discussions...and arguments...and she tried to convey her own love and longing for him.

She basked in the feeling for several long moments before the chill of her cell got to her, and she shuddered. Hermione curled up tighter under her blanket, her dark thoughts returning. She wondered if anyone had told Dolohov and Rowle that Severus was alive. Her lip trembled again, and she wrapped her arms around herself, attempting to regain the earlier warmth she had felt.

After nearly six months of marriage, she had grown used to his presence in her bed, his body snug against hers. She remembered how she had told him she would help him retrieve his memories, and yet she never had. The guilt of the broken promise tugged at her heart and put her in helpless tears again. The night crept on, and Hermione vowed she would try to ask a passing guard her questions. Surely someone in Azkaban would understand her need for answers.

She heard them for the first time before breakfast, the heavy ring of boots as a guard made rounds on her Floor. As he passed by, she lunged at the door and banged hard, trying to draw attention. "Help, help please!"

Surely a guard wasn't allowed to ignore a cry for help from a prisoner. The boots paused, and then the small viewing window in her door opened, revealing brown eyes. It was not, fortunately, Warden Bitchface. "Are you having a medical emergency?"

"Please," Hermione said desperately, "can you at least tell me if Harry Potter and Percival Weasley are alive? Is my husband well? That's all I want to know, just that they're safe."

The guard's gaze sharpened in acknowledgement, and he said simply, "You're Hermione Granger."

"Yes. Will you please tell me if my husband and friends are well? Severus Snape, Harry Potter and Percival Weasley."

To her relief the guard seemed to sympathise. "They are all alive, though according to the _Prophet_, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter are still at St. Mungo's." He hesitated, "Mr. Weasley was injured quite badly. I don't know more than that. Your husband is well. He and others have been protesting the Ministry for weeks. They couldn't make any charges stick because the Aurors couldn't find any manufacturing labs or restricted materials that he had access to. It's all circumstantial for him."

Hermione closed her eyes in relief. "Thank you. Thank you so much, sir."

The guard hunched his shoulders a little and then said quietly, "You're welcome. I wish I could do more. I...I don't think it's right that you got put in here, or Madam Malfoy, or any of the healers they've convicted in the last few months." He paused, and then his voice firmed. "I was at Hogwarts when Harry Potter killed Voldemort. The biggest tragedy that occurred there wasn't how many people died that night. The biggest tragedy was how few years it took the Ministry to forget."

Eyes teary with both agreement and gratitude, Hermione nodded, thanked the guard one more time, and retreated to sit in her little wooden chair.

Days passed. Having no wand, calendar or even a piece of chalk to keep tally like one saw in films, Hermione quickly lost track of time. She believed she had been there for between two and three weeks, but couldn't be certain. Her sympathetic guard had stopped by briefly, two days after their initial encounter, and had passed a battered paperback through the viewing window. It was the sort of high-adrenaline action novel that was a popular read amongst wizards, pure mental fairy floss. Hermione treasured it, reading it over and over again until she had it memorised.

As more days dragged past, Hermione found herself pacing circles in her cell, trying to do something, anything, to keep her muscles from stiffening. Her cell wasn't small and she was always given enough of the bland food to satisfy her, however she was still trapped in it day after day with a substandard mattress and no real way to exercise. It was appalling, really, that Azkaban didn't have an area for prisoners to stretch their legs and see the sun for at least a few minutes each day.

Always, she hugged the feeling of her husband's bond in her head. His emotions often shifted between anger, determination, and the same deep-set loneliness that was wearing on her, always overlaid with a heavy sense of worry and the small glowing warmth that told her he loved her.

He loved her. Her former professor, friend and lover was also her love. She had known, deep down, that it was true. His declaration of happiness when she had professed her own had been proof. It was another thing entirely to _feel_ it however, gentle and firm and unwavering. She ached to tell him again, to hold him again. If she ever got out of this damned cell she would make sure she told him every day.

More time passed, and her guard stopped by twice. Once, to tell her that Percy had finally been released from St. Mungo's, and once to pass her a small assorted package of Twinings teabags. He had given her a slightly embarrassed look and mumbled, "I know it isn't much…"

She had cut him off with a firm shake of her head. "It's wonderful. They only give us one cup a day, and it's always the same generic shite. This...this is Christmas, thank you."

Her friendly guard had blushed a little. "Hardly, it's July."

July. That meant Harry would be turning thirty in a matter of days. Had it really been almost nineteen years since that first fateful train-ride to Hogwarts? Hermione wrapped her arms around herself and sighed. She had been in Azkaban for nearly three months.

The next time the guard stopped by, he opened the viewing window only briefly before closing it again. Hermione was on her feet to protest when the whole door swung open, and she blinked in surprise. The guard gave her a lopsided smile. "There has been a shift in Ministry administration. I've been instructed to take you back down to processing. Apparently the new Minister and those on the Wizengamot have re-opened your case, and reduced your sentence to a fine of some kind."

"Back down to processing?" she repeated dumbly. She was being released. Administration had changed, and whoever was in charge now was releasing her. Her heartbeat quickened. She could go home and see Severus! She felt hope surge, and she reached out to her husband again, giddy as she felt his own relief and pleasure finally overriding the anxiety that had been omnipresent in his emotions for so long.

The guard nodded, the faint, crooked smile still on his face, and gestured toward the door. She followed, wobbling a little. After three months of having only a small amount of room to walk about, her sudden motion was strangely dizzying, particularly when they reached the stairs. The rectangular spiral downward tunneled in her vision for a moment and she swayed.

Her guard put a steadying hand on her shoulder. "Careful," he said.

Hermione gave him a grateful look. "Thank you. You have been much kinder than the woman who processed me the first time. I'll never forget that you brought me a book, and more tea. I appreciate it more than I can say. There were days I thought I'd go mad without them."

He nodded. "Like I said, some of us don't forget. When I heard you were here I was angry. A lot of people were, and after the riot the Ministry didn't have a single day without protesters. It got to the point that even Muggles were starting to notice."

He chuckled softly. "It didn't take long for Minister Behrends to resign in disgrace, and for the laws regarding marriage and contraception to be overturned. I doubt anything has passed through the courts so quickly. Still," he shrugged apologetically, "these things take time. It's why you've been here as long as you have. The new minister inherited quite a mess. When I heard that you were finally being released, I asked to be the one to retrieve you."

"Thank you, again." She shook her head, and said honestly, "I wish I did, but I don't remember you from Hogwarts."

The guard gave her another crooked smile, and she realized it was due to a scar tugging on the corner of the left side of his mouth. "Our paths didn't cross often. I was in my fourth year, and in Slytherin. I was one of eleven Slytherin students who came back and fought," he said proudly.

She smiled. "Thank you, then. You most likely made all the difference in the world. We were very outnumbered."

He smiled again. "I'd never been more terrified in my life. I'm glad you married Professor Snape. He was always good to us Slytherins. I'm glad someone else knew he was worth believing in back then."

Hermione ignored the fissure of guilt his words struck within her. "I'm glad I married him, too."

He looked about to say something else, but then they had reached processing, and there was Severus in his dark, brooding glory. Hermione pulled away from her unnamed guard's side and launched herself into her husband's arms.

"I'm sorry! You were right, I shouldn't have gone."

"It's done, it's done, you're fine." He whispered raggedly into her hair. "Just don't you dare ever leave me alone like that again. I went to the Ministry every day to get you back, and even spoke to that damned paper. Don't you ever leave me again."

"I love you, too." Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him fiercely, then pulled back. "I hope you know. I'll tell you every day if you wish."

"I would never be displeased to hear it." He stroked her curls softly. "I can feel it, you know. Whilst you were locked away I tried to reach you, and I could feel it. I've never known anything like it before." He kissed her again, gently. "I'm never letting you go."

"I am perfectly amenable to that." Hermione tucked her head back into his chest and took a deep breath. "What is happening out there? My sentence was reduced to a fine?"

"Ten K," he answered. "Don't worry about it, we can pay it."

Hermione gave a teary, snorting laugh. "That's actually less than what I offered as a bribe to Minister Behrends."

Severus rolled his eyes. "Merlin save us from idiot politicians. We're probably lucky the new Minister doesn't know about that. He's not nearly as...honest as Behrends."

"And so we trade our reproductive freedom for a corrupt Ministry again." Hermione sighed and shook her head. "Let's go pay it, and demand your memories back whilst were at it. If there were ever a time when the Ministry might want to be on our good side..."

Severus gave her a strange look and said softly, "It's already been paid; that's why you're being released." He cleared his throat, and continued, "If it's all the same to you, I think I would prefer to just go home and make new memories. The past...Let's let it stay dead and buried in the Ministry. We've won this fight, more or less."

Hermione felt her eyes tear up again as she smiled. "Alright then, Severus. Yes, please, take me home. I'm tired of fighting battles."

He smiled faintly. "For now, at least," he teased, and then kissed her softly.

Hermione nodded, then said thoughtfully, "Someone should do something about this prison. You know, the conditions here are utterly ridiculous. If it hadn't been for…" she trailed off, embarrassed that she didn't know her guard's name.

The guard smiled shyly, and to Hermione's surprise, Severus nodded to him. "Mr. Ainsley."

The guard's smile broadened; he was clearly delighted that Severus remembered his name. "Sir!"

"Thank you for looking out for my wife, Mr. Ainsley." He turned his attention back to her, ignoring the now grinning guard. "As for you, no more causes. Give it at least six months." Hermione made a face at him and Severus rolled his eyes. Still holding her tightly, he Apparated them home.

A month later a portrait artist was commissioned to paint the couple for RS&amp;M, once their position had been made quite clearly that they had no wish to occupy separate frames. There was quite a bit of fuss and bluster at first, as the two were quite stubborn about wanting the British Library (the Wizarding section in particular) as their backdrop, and that was difficult to manoeuvre. Eventually, favours were called, strings were pulled and Hermione and Severus were given their way. In the portrait, they were seated demurely, turned toward each other. Their wrists were turned to subtly include their binding tattoos, and each had a cup of steaming tea.

* * *

_A/N: And that's the end. Thank you so much for joining me on this journey-I hope you had as much fun reading my story as I did writing. Good or bad, please review! They are the only "payment" fanfic writers get, and make my day! Thank you~ Tyche_


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